The Snapping Point
by MisplacedHyperQuill
Summary: Molly is over it. Who knew that one of Sherlock's 'minor' jabs was the one that triggered her snapping point? Read and review please! Definitely Rated for the coming chapters.
1. Molly's Last Straw

The small, wooden front door of the medium-sized three-bedroom-four-bathroom apartment swung opened and rebounded, after a deafening crash against the back wall, into a young, very petite, very angry woman.

Molly Hooper stomped into her abode with her thick, damp and curling hair plastered against her small, round, furious, tear-streaked face. She flung her red sling bag onto the wide green sofa, immediately heading towards a closed door that led to her cozy but unkempt bedroom, not realizing that she had forgotten to zip it up after rummaging through just minutes before, the compartments immediately emptying out its contents onto the floor with a series of noises, deafening against the otherwise silent apartment.

Inside her light purple bedroom Molly Hooper winced and groaned at the sound of what was probably her phone and a few other items falling to the wooden floor just outside her door. Stubbing her pinky toe against the edge of her double bed caused yet another wave of tears to form at the corners of her eyes. Wiping them away angrily with the back of her sweatered hand she flopped, for lack of a better word, onto the current object of her physical pain. The old springs of the bed creaked under her weight and she lightly smirked at the thought of it feeling the pain it gave her. A taste of its own medicine.

She knew whom she would like to give a whole mouthful of his own bitter medicine.

Just thinking about him made her want to sob into her big blue cottony comforter but her tear ducts, overworked and underpaid as they were, decidedly went on strike, leaving molly to a few dry sobs and heaves; and a few painful minutes of hyperventilating.

The young doctor hated how that man affected her. Around her colleagues Dr. Molly Hooper was known as the cute, mousy pathologist, where she always put up a shy, yet professional and confident front. She admitted a long time ago that she was useless at professional or workplace fashion but out in the casual world she was alright. Among family she was the loving daughter, 'best sister this blasted world had to offer' (a straight quote from an enthusiastic brother) and an amazing, fun aunt.

But could never be any of those in his presence. Looking back, Molly wasn't even sure what it was about the world's only consulting detective that caused her to become so bloody….lovestruck.

Any one had to admit that Sherlock Holmes was really a pleasurable sight to any passing straight woman or gay man With his long limbs, pale alabaster skin, the bloody-annoying-yet-so-well-defined cheekbones that grace his already handsome face, and one could go on and on about his forever colour changing eyes from their greens, blues and greys. _And don't get me started with his bloody intellect _Molly thought sour, wry smile gracing her soft features as she changed into her pyjamas and wrung out her damp chocolate hair.

She still didn't understand. Even after everything he put her through in terms of ego and self confidence throughout the soon to be eight years she had known the man, it wasn't until today when she had finally snapped and did the unthinkable. It was so horrible that she was sure, no certain that the detective would never be apart of her life again, other than in her dreams. Not that she would admit it. The worst part was that through everything that had happened leading to this moment, she was _still_ in love with the sodding man.

Reluctantly getting out of bed, Molly trudged out to the living room before rolling promptly over the back of the couch and landing with a practiced _**thump**_ flat in a lying down position on the seat of the furniture. Grabbing the remote that was prodding uncomfortably against her-ahem- arse she flicked on the TV and stopped once she decided on yet another rerun on The Big Bang Theory.

Once again, rolling of the couch and landing on her knees on the floor, Molly began picking up the items scattered on the floor that had once been lying the small space of her sling bag compartments.

A stack of OK! and other gossip magazines for when she was bored were thrown carelessly on the glass coffee table.

A half open powder compact was closed and carefully placed back into the sling

Her small iPod Nano was found after moving the sofa backwards (how on the Lord's _Earth _had it made its way there?) was thrown onto the sofa when she caught sight of an item she never wanted to see again.

It was picked up with petite fingers, held with a thumb and index at the base of its non-living body as if it was toxic. In a way, the memories that came with it was. Dropping back from her crawling-toddler position to a slightly more comfortable position (well not for her toes) to sit on the heels of her feet, Molly cradled the cursed object in her palms. The one small object that indirectly caused her to metaphorically break in half and perform the ghastly deed (in her books of course) just hours ago. She laughed at the fact that the object was so small, harmless, a necessity to many woman her age. All it was was a gold cuboid tube of bright scarlet lipstick. Sitting there on the floor Molly was betrayed by her own mind as she was brought into a flashback that took place a mere three hours ago.

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The cadaver that had gone by the incredibly dull name of David Smith- Molly had heard and performed autopsies an people with the most hilarious names like one Muthukumaresan Subramaniyamalam; that was without the middle names- with the most interesting death from what the autopsy told her, Mr. Smith was not killed by falling down the stirs of his home, but instead by what seemed to be an air embolism, and judging by the miniscule circular hole at the edge of his neck, it was fairly obvious foul play was involved, the weapon being a syringe, but it was not her job to say.

Muttering her findings into a silver recorder whilst taking notes, Molly Hooper was completely oblivious to the tall man, impeccably dressed with a huge cloak waltzing into the pristine white room with flourish, followed by an older, sandy blonde-haired man dressed in much more casual clothes. One could have been half blind and still notice that the taller man, who had shrugged of his cloak and threw carelessly on the body of poor Mr. Smith and seated himself casually at an empty stool, staring intently into a black microscope, that he was dotted, no splattered with dusty brown and mildly damp or wet, dripping dark red splotches that contrasted with his fair skin. The wet drips did have a source on his body; a thin, yet probably deep, by the amount of blood flowing steadily like a river. Some of in trailed down his chin and into his shirt while others were slowly beginning to drip down on the silver metal table he was seated at, forming a small puddle. Sherlock Holmes was never one to care about physical pain anyway.

John Watson on the other hand seemed to be the worried for the detective. His face was a mask of pure concern with maybe a tinge of fear of the prospect of the consultant next to him bleeding to death. Noticing that Molly, her back turned to them was completely oblivious to her surroundings, probably by the earbuds in her ear, he began to move towards the pathologist, when a shrill sound pierced the quiet aura room, stopping him in his tracks.

Molly vaguely heard her phone blare of its annoying ringtone, signaling a call from her family. Confirming her thoughts as she took a quick look at the caller ID she placed her phone to her ear, a loud 'Hey Molls!' greeting her before she could do the same.

'Matt hi. What's going on?'

'Nothing much. How's the goriest girl ever?'

'She's just fine. Now what do you want?'

'Nothing much just one small favour can-'

'Don't be so loud Matt- I'm not deaf'

Sherlock watched with slight interest at the woman. The last case despite its gore was barely a six and the adrenaline was already slowing down so he began deductions.

_The caller was obviously a male by the sound of his voice through the speaker on the phone and to the fact the Molly called him Matt. The ringtone was silly and unnecessary so it may have been someone she hated, but someone like that would not be calling Molly for a favour and Molly wasn't the type to do something so immature so obviously it was a joke- one obviously between two or more people close to each other_.

Molly had now turned around but was still oblivious to the two men and Sherlock carried on with his deductions.

_Molly's words were and sounded harsh through her tone of voice but the small smile on her face made it obvious that it was all a joke. It probably wouldn't be a good joke if the recipient wasn't in on it so Sherlock was quite certain that the caller was very close to the pathologist's life. As an extra Molly's steady tone that went well against her facial expressions made it clear that she was quite the actress. One wouldn't see that at first. _

'What about Mum?'

Sherlock snapped out of his daydream as Molly said that but decided that Molly wouldn't refer to her mother as 'Mum' to her friends confirming Sherlock's deductions of her being to the recipient, also adding to the fact that he was obviously her brother.

Molly finally looked up to see a very bloody Sherlock with a long gash along his cheek and her eyes immediately widened.

'Matt I gotta go- I will take care of the boys then-yes yes I have to go-I'm busy that's why-because there is a lot of blood-I'll call later-okay-BYE.'

Hanging up and placing her phone in her pocket Molly immediately got out the First Aid Kit and worked on the gash.

'Are you busy Molly? We will leave if you are.' Asked John, aware that she hung up because of the bloody detective along with the piles of paperwork on her desk.

'No of course n-' Molly began cut of as Sherlock began speaking

'Obviously not-she was about to hang up anyway judging on the amount of paperwork on her desk. Besides her brother had already gotten what he wanted and that was for Molly to take care of his children. Soon, judging by the call.'

Molly was used to this but it was amazing when he did that, but she knew better than to ask how he did it. She carried on cleaning the detectives wound before placing a small plaster against, muttering quiet apologies as he winced at the painful contact.

She noticed Sherlock staring into her red sling bag, wondering what would be so interesting in there. Trying to take no notice she went back to her desk to fill out the remaining bundles of paperwork. The next time she looked up she noticed Sherlock's yes were now on her apparel. The form-fitting red dress that stopped at her knee was what she had picked for her date with a brain surgeon who had taken notice of her three days before. She couldn't wait for the date and honestly couldn't wait for Sherlock to go so that she could lock up and leave.

'Bright red is not your colour Molly'

'Excuse me?' Molly asked startled, wondering what he may be on about

'Your lipstick choice. Bright red makes your lips look smaller and thinner than they already are. It is not going to enhance or give the sexy look I am sure you were going for, judging by the magazines in your bag.' He brazenly answered, giving her a slight glance.

'Wha-'

'Come on Molly- it is obvious someone of your looks and personality would be able to pull of such a look and-'

'Sherlock.' Interjected John's soft yet firm and warning tone, as the shorter man placed a hand on Sherlock trying to silence him; his efforts unfortunately in vain.

'What John? I am merely stating what is so plainly _obvious_. It will merely help her anyway. Besides,' the uncaring man carried on pointing the later part of his speech at the tearing pathologist 'haven't I already said that your choice of men is definitely below par what not with the whole 'Jim from IT' debacle-' once again the detective was interrupted by a loud smack.

He heard the smack before feeling the searing hot pain on his right cheek, where his newly bandaged wound was placed. Mostly out of shock Sherlock's hand flew up to his cheek staring down at the small pathologist whose hand was still at the post slap position her face an expression of shock whilst her eyes held onto furious and sad tears.

'_Get out'_ Molly seethed through gritted teeth '_now, or I will call security.'_

Sherlock merely stared with a mixture of confusion and….regret?

No Sherlock Holmes was a self-proclaimed sociopath with no emotion. He felt no regret or remorse.

'Get the _fuck_ out now.' Molly stated calmly which somehow had its effect because John grabbed the detective by his arm and proceeded to shove him out the door

'I am so sorry Molly. Really I am. You look great- don't worry.'

'It's fine John really-it was going to happen one of these days- everyone knew it'

The ex-army doctor merely nodded before following his best friend.

After leaving , Molly immediately broke down, her legs giving way, forcing her into a crouching position against a door. She hurriedly sent a text to her date stating that she simply wasn't feeling well and had a bad temperature.

Sobbing for a few more minutes, Molly packed away her equipment grabbed her bag and left the now silent morgue, preparing herself for a walk home that would include many, many tears and thoughts about the gorgeous detective with the velvet baritone that spoke the harsh thoughts of its owners oh so insightful mind.

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Molly was snapped out of her reverie as she saw her phone light up from somewhere underneath the coffee table. Bending low, she grappled around with her hand until her fingers wrapped around the black but green clad gadget. She unlocked the phone and saw the message blinking against the background of her and another man sharing the same nose and eyes as her, with straight, blonde hair covering his scalp. Both were grinning goofily into the phone's built in camera. Molly smiled fondly at the picture. Matthew always made her smile. She looked back at the message that read: **FIVE UNREAD MESSAGES**

Molly scrolled through her inbox, reading the texts in chronological order:

-Thanks so much for taking care of the kids. Have fun with your blood and gore sis! ;)…Matt

**Sent: 03:12 p.m**

It is completely fine Molly- get better soon and we'll take a rain check yea?

Brian Johnson

**Sent: 05:37 p.m**

I apologise.

-SH

**Sent: 7:45 p.m**

Molly I am so sorry about Sherlock. Don't expect him coming around any time soon. Say the word and he won't be there at all.

-John W.

**Sent: 7:45 p.m**

Molly I am sorry. Please forgive my earlier actions.

-SH

**Sent: 8:14**

Molly sighed looking at the last three messages. He had said please. That was something Sherlock would never do. Right? It was obvious that he apologised because of nagging from a certain doctor. But to…beg?

No. There was no way. It was plain that all he wanted was access to the morgue. She wanted to give in she really did, but it was time Molly made a stand against Sherlock; time she stood up for herself and the day that happened was going to start now.

A sudden feeling of fatigue and drowsiness washed over Molly, eventhough it was barely past 8:20. Sending texts back to her brother and Dr. Johnson (a.k.a her failed date) while brushing her teeth proved to be a near impossible task.

Washing of the toothpaste and drool mixture form her phone Molly sent one last text of 'thanks' to John before slipping under the warmth of her blanket. The last thing Molly Hooper thought of that night was a certain consulting detective and how he was going to finally get what he deserved.

**So this is my first time writing on fanfiction and I do hope it was an OK first try. Please feel free to comment and review on my work as I really appreciate constructive critism but please tone down on the colourful language and no unnecessary flames because they take up space. Anyway, let me know what you think and if I should carry on with this story!**

**-Ash**


	2. The Next Day

**A.N: Well I got about 10 reviews so far and all were great! Thank you so much to the reviewers and I really do hope to get more. I apologise in advance for missed out spell errors as I'm editing myself and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

Sherlock heard John waking up in his bedroom from his prayer-like thinking position on the couch. His cold, calculating, ice blue eyes stared at the archaic, dirty white skull, his previous only friend, and allowed a mental debate in his mind palace court room if getting up and walking the 10 feet, give or take a few inches, to collect the skull was worth it.

The affirmative (the motion being this side wants to take the skull) side loosing poorly, Sherlock lay down on the sofa, his height a disadvantage as his feet dangled of the opposite arm. Not that he cared. Being comfortable was for the ordinary, mundane people of the world.

Walking through the gardens of his palace (mainly consisting of his flora and fauna knowledge) he was once again plagued by the memory occurring just hours ago. NOT the one where he was physically abused by a certain woman, but on the one that happened directly after.

-**FLASHBACK—6:55 P.M.-**

_The door to 221B Baker Street slammed open to add to the already dramatic entrance of one Sherlock Holmes. Shrugging of his billowing black cloak and carefully placing it on the coat rack his silhouette loomed over, he was followed by the more ordinary, yet tense entry of Dr. John Watson._

'_The _hell _is _WRONG_ with you Sherlock?'_

_Sherlock sighed; the obvious (even to him) tension in the air of the silent cab ride back home was going to lead to an angry red-faced out burst for sure and __**surprise, surprise, **__it happened_

'_Physically, John, I have an almost closed, or should I say ALMOST closed gash on my left cheek, multiple cuts and bruises around my arms and neck, from being bound and of course, a red handprint from the slap I received that reopened my wound by on Dr. Hooper. Really John you were with me. Pay attention.' Sherlock replied in his most indifferent drawl._

'_Exactly Sherlock. Molly slapped you. _Molly_ slapped you. What do you think that says about what you did?' John got out through gritted teeth, trying so very hard not to get angrier than he already was than his sociopathic best friend, knowing it would get ugly if he did._

_Sherlock paused at John's words; something only the latter man had ever achieved, other than the former's mother, of course, but that's a story for a different date. He would never admit it, but John had a point. Had he actually manage to anger the mousy pathologist to the point of _slapping _him? It's true that they're relationship had taken a slight detour since the fall-after all he wouldn't have succeeded without her help. She had changed, definitely._

_But was that a good thing?_

_Based on what just happened-no._

'_Are you even __**listening**__? _**SHERLOCK!' **_John suddenly screamed out snapping Sherlock out of his second reverie of the day 'I don't know what to do anymore Sherlock. Just remember that she's the reason you are even allowed in the bloody morgue. After everything she did for you, and I mean __**everything**__.' John sighed, his angry, glittering pale eyes softening to a more tired and disappointed stare as he said the last couple sentences, obviously pointing out what Sherlock had just finished thinking about._

'_What's the point. It's like talking to a brick wall with you. Just please do me this _ONE_ favour and at least try to think about what you did wrong.' John ended, trudging over to his bedroom; without another glance or word back to the stoic detective he slammed the door shut._

_Sherlock sat, his fingers under his chin in a prayer position, his elbows resting on his knees, (that were pulled up to his chest, like the man-child he was) thinking._

_After a few minutes of internal deliberation he pulled out his phone firing a two-word text to the current subject of his thoughts a satisfied smirk on his long, full lips. _That should do it_ he thought. He then proceeded to untangle himself and make his way to the kitchen, to his beloved microscope._

_Almost an hour later, John trudged out of his room. The flat was silent, save for the blonde's footsteps and the occasional swapping of petri dishes._

'_Have you apologised?'_

'_Mmm'_

'_Did you or not?'_

'_I sent her what she needed to hear at that the point.'_

'_Oh god'_

'_What?'_

'_You said something stupid didn't you. What did you…you know what I don't want to know- I'll apologise myself.'_

_The blonde proceeded to fish out his phone from his ratty, blue robe and sent a medium sized text (obviously based on the length of time taken to send. Not just mistakes as right thumb never strayed to point of backspace key) hitting send and sending Sherlock one last half-arsed glare before ambling back._

_John's text reminded Sherlock about the reply he was expecting and was surprised when he received none, but recovered quickly, safely coming to the conclusion that she simply hadn't seen it. But Sherlock was no psychic and to be safe sent another text, adding a please to really hit a nerve in the recipient._

_The rest of the night was spent in silence at the microscope until the early hours of the morning when the sofa was taken up to sort out and organize his palace, the one place he was free from reality's annoying, mundane, irrelevant drama._

-** END OF FLASHBACK—6:55 P.M.-**

'We are going to the morgue.' Sherlock announced during breakfast, well John's breakfast. In reply, after swallowing a his mouthful, he said 'That's a bad idea Sherlock.'

'I can assure you, John, that I everything is fine. Nothing that could not have been taken care of.' came the curt answer. 'Now let's_ go_. You may even get the chance to talk to that pediatrician friend of Molly's you've been eyeing for the past week.'

Grabbing his coat and trademark scarf, Sherlock strode out of the simple flat with large flourish and grace.

'_Bloody man with his bloody arrogance. And let's not forget his sodding coat with his sodding scarf. Sodding __**Royal Highness.**__'_ John muttered shrugging on his brown jacket, angrily walking out to follow his friend into what was certainly not going to be a good visit.

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Molly had a great morning. She felt powerful and so energized! Hurriedly showering and shrugging on her clothes and coat with a muffin in her mouth (she overslept-again) she checked her watch one last time before hurrying out the door.

Two hours later found her sitting at her bench doing her paperwork simultaneously listening to her best friend since college talk about her day and the numerous kids she had to treat. Mary Morstan was a lively, feisty young woman with an amazing sense of humour that people were usually annoyed over until they got to know her. Personality wise Mary was the ying to Molly's quieter conserved yang. Yet somehow both were inseparable, sharing the same friends and social life.

Physically they were quite alike. Both skins tanned in sunlight, but Molly spent most of her time inside rather than out and her tans disappeared early. Mary skin glowed a light brown hue nearly always, something Molly had always been envious of. Mary had dark brown eyes were almost the same colour as the bouncing curly waves that hung down the same length as Molly's, down her back, dancing around as Mary talked with the added exaggerated gestures.

' "He fell down" she was insisting. And I'm just sitting there nodding all sad-like, like the great actress I am, and I'm just thinking how the hell can anyone fall, headfirst might I add, onto a bloody saucepan and then proceed to jam a nail into his thumb! I swear children are just getting clumsier by the generation. But you can't help but love 'em.' Mary said with the most serious face she could muster from her perch on Molly's desk.

Molly gazed up at Molly's face (which didn't happen much- both woman were barely over five feet but somehow stopped growing at the exact same height) with her default face. Staring at each other in serious silence for about five seconds, Molly watched as Mary's small pout tilted upwards at the corners before bursting into laughter, followed not so soon after by her best friend.

'Told you I could say it with a straight face' Mary got out between hiccups.

'You laughed anyway! Thanks though, needed one after yesterday and all that.' Molly said sobering up. Molly had told Mary earlier about the historic events of the day before first thing that morning, knowing she could find comfort in her.

'It's okay. The bloody sod got what he deserved. Honestly, after what you did for him and everything! Even had to keep it from me!' answered Mary, talking about how Molly had helped with the death-faking and pretending he wasn't dead for six months for the safety of the three people Sherlock Holmes claimed to care for.

'Well speak of the bloody devil,' Mary started staring at the space behind Molly before jumping of the desk muttering 'good morning's to the two men who entered the room.

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John was ecstatic to see Dr. Mary Morstan as he entered the morgue. He knew that Molly and her were close, almost like Sherlock and himself. He watched her get of her seat and mutter good mornings at the two of them and felt slightly disappointed to see that her stare was directed at the detective sitting at the microscope rather than him but put two ad two together when he realized it was more of a chocolate glare. Molly had to have told her.

He tore his gaze of Mary and set his eyes on her paler counterpart. Molly was obviously tensed, no surprise why, but kept her back from them. She swiveled in her seat to face them and said a cheerful 'Morning John' at him, blatantly ignoring Sherlock, who obviously noticed by the pointed stare he was giving her.

'I would like the results from the samples I gave you the other day' Sherlock asked with his usual air of arrogance that was amplified by the almost regal like open palm hand gesture. This was merely greeted by two raised eyebrows from Molly, who otherwise had a practiced mask of indifference on her face.

'_Christ_,' muttered Mary 'John, do you mind coming with me? I thought you may want to see the new renovated café upstairs.'

'Um, yeah. Of course' replied a very confused John, who barely had time finish his sentence when he was being dragged by the jacket sleeve.

Once outside Mary let go of his jacket

'Sorry 'bout that, now shhhhh,'

'Wait, so no café?'

'Well yes there is a new café and we can go some other time, but for now, shhhh! 'I know I am not the only one here who wants to listen to this.'

'Oh okay'

A few minutes of listening later John made another attempt at conversation

'So, we can go to that café another time right?'

'What?'

'Well you did say that'

'Oh, that's not necessary, I mean we can go, if you want to that is,' Mary's hair

moved forward, covering her face from John's watchful eyes.

'So this Friday, after your shift. How about somewhere a bit more fancy than your hospital café though?'

'What? Oh.._oh…_yeah sure what-what time?'

'How about you call me with whatever time you see fit?' came the reply

Mary's heart was beating against her throat. She had a date with John bloody Watson! She had always had a little crush on him for a while, a small infatuation, really, but she had a date!

She was snapped out of her thoughts (thank god, she was pretty sure he was staring at John. Hard.) when Sherlock suddenly stormed out, a look of pure thunder on his face. 'We are LEAVING John. Now.' His voice soft, yet dangerous..

'Well,' John sighed 'That's my cue. Call me, yeah?'

He leant in pecked the young woman on the cheek and walked of, leaving her staring after him.

Mary felt faint, still feeling John's soft, slightly chapped lips on her cheek. Her knees nearly buckled when she caught him turn around and give her a giant wink before jogging to keep up with Sherlock. She felt like such a schoolgirl! No one had had that effect on her since, well, she was a schoolgirl!

Sighing and rebooting her mind for the amusing story that was about to come, she strode back in confidently into the lab.

'Okay Molly, spill the beans. Spill them all.'

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Molly cradled her heavy head in her hands; the…_discussion_… she just had with the world's most infuriating yet so gorgeous (damn it Molly SNAP OUT. You are pissed of at him for God's sake!) man took way to much energy.

She managed a small, genuine smile at her best friends words.

Mary could always lift her spirits

'It's quite a long story as you can tell. I have to go home, the boys are staying over.'

Flopping onto her stool dramatically Mary answered 'Come on! I want to know! You know what? I'm following you home. I'll spend the night with you. And you can tell me on the way home.'

There was no arguing with Mary once she had her mind set on something so she got up and grabbed her bag opened the digitally locked door.

'Get on with it then!' cried Mary

'Okay, okay we haven't even left! When you left I got up and-'

' Wait!'

'What Mary?'

'I need to get my stuff. We have to go up.'

'Oh come on Mary why didn't you-'

'Shhhhh don't stray away from topic! Carry on!'

'Okay okay. I said to him-'

'Wait when did that happen? Start from the beginning!'

'But I've already said that! Listen to me next time!'

'Well if you were listening to me, you would know that I would have been wondering about the whereabouts of my bag! Start form the start!'

'I sometimes wonder why I am friends with you.'

'Because, Dr. Margaret Danielle Hooper I am amazing now start!'

Shaking her head at her friend's fake vanity, Molly strolled down the dimly lit corridor, restarting her story.

'Well once you and John left- you have to tell me about that later by the way- I walked up and…'

**Well that's the end of Chapter 2! Thanks so much again to all the reviewers- you guys are the best! Again, please, please review and tell me what you think! No colourful language and no UNECESSARY flames. Oh and don't forget to tell me if this is worth continuing and offer any ideas for later chapters!**

**Next chappie: expect a bunch of new Hoopers and something surprising about one of them!**

**A bit more on John/ Mary**

**And of course, our favourite couple SHERLOLLY!**

**One last thing: how was my attempt at fluff in general and how did you guys like my take on Mary and John/Mary. Tell me in your reviews PLEASE or P.M me.**

**THANKS!**

**-Ash **


	3. The Aftermath

**Hey guys! So far (as I am writing this) I have 21 reviews and 31 followers! Thank you so much if you reviewed- it means a lot to me. Well chapter 3 is up so I won't make this long.**

**Here's the chapter:**

'_I didn't even look at the two of you as you stumbled out the morgue-'_

'We didn't stumble. I NEVER stumble.'

'Do you want to know what happened or not?'

'Okay fine I'll shut up. But _I_ didn't stumble. My grace is to swan-like'

'Shut up!'

'Okay! Don't get you bloody knickers in a knot- just tell me!'

'_Christ-'_

'What was that? Oh I'm sorry, just me and the cabbie in the cab, the other holy power's taking a day of- spending time in Hawaii last I heard, unless you're the holy power Mr. Cabbie- are you a holy power Mr. Cabbie?'

'No ma'am, just a cabbie,' came the gruff reply.

'Dear god SHUT UP Mary. Just let me tell you what happened so I won't have to say anything when we pick up the kids!

'Fine, fine just don't get your-'

'Don't you _dare.'_

'Okay, deep breathe, and…GO'

'…'

'When I say go it means you start. And…GO!'

'Bloody hell…anyway, _you guys stumb-I mean walked out the door clumsily, leaving Sherlock and I alone. It was bloody weird. We were completely silent- I swear if looks could kill- his stare was so…how do I put it so it doesn't sound like an author trying to write a romance story in the heroine's third person's point of view…piercing.'_

'Still sounds like a romance novel. I'll make millions on your story one day- okay okay, go on.' Mary interrupted, her voice lowering volume as she got to the end. Molly's glare really could kill.

'_He just stared at me and again he asks me for the sample results he asked for. I was so pissed of at him you know? The bloody git is just so infuriating, and especially after what he said yesterday, and after what I…did; still decides to flaunt his perfect arse around the morgue. Not even a sorry from him!'_

'Didn't he sorry though?'

' Through text Mary, and even though he said please and everything it obvious he didn't actually mean it. I've known the man for almost five years- I may not be him but you pick up a few things from a person-especially if that person uses you everyday he sees you_. Moving on- I told him I didn't get the results. In three words: he got angry. He started demanding me for explanations and I told him that he was the damn detective, figure it out yourself! And I guess he did; he just stood there and stared at me. _Have I ever told you that him staring at you makes you feel absolutely, hundred percent naked? Not in a kinky way.'

'Yes, yes you did- many times. And I know you wish it WAS in a kinky way. NOW KEEP GOING.'

'Well it is. But not kinky. Who gave you that idea?_ He kept staring then walked around the morgue table and stood directly in front of me. He stared down at me, with that usual no-expression face of his and then asked me: 'Is it about yesterday? to which I replied 'of course Sherlock.'_

'_He stared at me again and this time asked what was so wrong about what he did and that I was the who slapped him.'_

The cab stopped at yet another traffic light. The thunderstorm that had broken out right as they got on the black cab intensified even more as another crackle of yellow lightning ripped through the sky, followed almost immediately by the low rumble of thunder. Molly stared straight ahead, at the leather back of the driver's seat, her mouth set in a thin line as she willed for the droplets forming in her eyes to not fall. She would not cry for Sherlock. Not in front of Mary. Certainly not in front of the cabbie, who had taken an interest in his latest passengers conversation.

'Hey, hey it's alright- don't say anything if you don't want to it's-'

' No, I want to- I'll be fine.'

Molly retold her tale, the scenes playing out like the drama it was in her head as she told her confidant, and the cabbie. Don't forget the cabbie.

_Molly glared at the man above her. The anger pent up inside her was so close to erupting out of her like Mt St. Helen; and Sherlock would be the unlucky town of Pompeii._

_Holding in her anger, Molly managed to hiss out 'I had every right to Sherlock- even _you _have to know that.'_

'_I never realized that your physical appearance counted in you self esteem- I never took you as that kind of person Molly. Besides, I was merely warning you against something that would have inevitably not have ended well- that brain surgeon- ah the irony, seeing that he hasn't got one anyway- has nothing in common with you. I was doing something kind.'_

'Kind _Sherlock? You think that was kind? Of course physical appearances count Sherlock- maybe not to you, but you don't feel anyway. Other than anger or annoyance of course. It hurt, so much. The one time when I looked in the mirror and thought Hey! I don't look too bad! you just have to come and spoil it all._

'_Why do you insist on doing this to me every time Sherlock? What did I ever do to YOU? After everything I have done for you the past five years; what I do for you; what I will do for; what I would always do for you- just please answer me._

'_That's not the worst part,' Molly lifted her hand to wipe away the stream of hot tears that fell silently in twin rivers down her face. She walked away from Sherlock, making sure her wet eyes stayed in contact with ice cold ones (she would not give him even the slightest hint that she was tired of all this- she needed and deserved the upper hand in this argument, and he had to know); there was no real need, but she just had to create the space between them._

'_You never acknowledged that what you did was- this is going to sound childish- mean and hurtful. I don't expect an apology from you, but walking around and ordering me like you used to, as if nothing happened- it's unacceptable Sherlock.'_

_Molly didn't realize that the detective had begun moving closer to her, and almost jumped when she looked back at him to see him hovering over her. She hadn't even realized her eyes had wandered over to the body lockers on her right; her mind was plagued with Sherlock. He leant down, so that their almost foot difference in height wouldn't be that much a problem and placed his long fingered hand on the tops of her arms. It looked a bit funny, she admitted in the back of her mind- there she was short, and standing as rigid as a pole and Sherlock bending over, his over six foot frame bent at an acute angle that could not have been comfortable._

_As usual (a natural reflex Molly's endocrine system insisted on having whenever he was touching her) the pathologist's breathing hitched and heat flowed up from…ahem…down there, coming to rest on her cheeks. If Sherlock noticed, which she knew he did, he made no reaction, not even a smirk._

_His eyes resting on her chocolate ones he whispered 'But I did apologise Molly- twice.'_

_Those six words set of another round of anger rushing through her body. Suddenly energized, she pushed the man's hands of her and backed away towards her desk._

'_Are you kidding me Sherlock? Do you honestly think I am that stupid?' she seethed, not wanting to attract to much attention, she made sure her voice was as level as it could be; to her pleasure, the effect she wanted on the detective played out. Sherlock Holmes was speechless._

'_I know that I am not as observant or intelligent as you are, but I have known you for five years, Sherlock. Five years. And I know when you want to send me a text so that you can be certain about a free access into the morgue. Don't you dare deny me Sherlock, I know you._

'_Anyway I can tell you that you still have all the access you want. I'm sure you can deduce by the way I wore my coat or the way my hair is tied or whatever that I'm still in love with you,' her own word took her by surprise- this was the first time she ever admitted it out loud to anyone other than Matthew and Mary- and she definitely didn't think it would be at a time like this._

'_But,' she said, continuing 'don't for one nanosecond believe that I forgive you or even consider you a friend right now.'_

_Sherlock continued studying her with a tilt in his head and I slight frown, like a curious toddler trying to figure out the new setting he had accidently switched on in his action figure while carelessly laying with it. The next essay that left Molly's mouth was instantly one that she regretted publishing._

'_Jim was always nice to me,' she started, the words flowing out like water through an open gate and she willed in vain to make it stop. Sherlock's head snapped up to it's original position, the mask that was his default face blank, save for the glittering eyes that were in place of the usual old ones._

'_I know that it was all an act, but it was still nice to know that for once someone was actually there for me who wasn't my family or just a friend. After our first date he texted me every morning telling me I was beautiful, followed by some dome metaphor. That's why I refused to believe you when you said he was gay- and I know he isn't. After your…escapade…at the swimming poll- I'm guessing it was after- I got a text from him. It said he was sorry for all the problems he had caused me and he wished my luck. That was probably an act to, but he was able to take time out of his evil agenda to do that for me. In that way, he's so much more human than you are Sherlock. I sometimes wonder why your roles were not reversed.'_

_The room was instantly filled with heavy silence. The dread intensified and she wanted to hang herself as she said that last sentence. Did she really want their roles reversed?_

'_Sherlock, I didn't me-'_

'_Save it. You meant every word of it. Don't worry about your morgue filled with the likes of inhumane me. I will call Lestrade tonight for a new pathologist. There has to be at least one other competent one in the whole of London. Good day Dr. Hooper- I won't waste anymore of your precious time.'_

_The words were said with the same amount of anger and malice shown on his face._

_Molly had crossed the line._

_Both had reached their snapping points._

_With a curt nod and a look of pure thunder Sherlock swept silently, for what seemed to be the last time, from the morgue._

_Letting out a sigh, Molly slumped onto her stool and proceeded to hold her head in her hands. Not a second later, Mary strode in._

'_Okay Molly, spill the beans. Spill them all._

'There that's the end of it.'

'Oh Molly, come on, it's going to be fine. A break from this drama is what everyone needs right now, okay?

Mary's words were met with a silent nod. When she thought of the outcome, Mary thought Molly had hit the sod, again. Not something quite so dramatic. All she knew was that as soon as she laid her eyes on the arse, he would end up with some nasty colour on those damn white cheekbones.

The cab sped across the highways as the sky began to clear, just as sunset started, leaving the sky to show a clear beautiful splash of reds, yellows, oranges and pinks. Clear skies were a good omen right?

Good. It was exactly what all four adults needed.

A good ten minutes later, the cab halted at a simple, whitewashed house. There was nothing at all outrageous about the black, spiked fence or the simple number 44 on the door.

'Here we are ma'am and ma'am, number 44,' wheezed out the cabbie.

'Thank you, but can you wait? We are just here to pickup a few people is all. Give us five minutes?' asked Molly with a soft, sad voice.

After a confirmed nod by the cabbie, both women slipped out the backseat of the cab and walked up the driveway to the front door. Molly knocked and the silence was instantly broken by a loud bang and a few other crashes and a woman's voice screaming 'Aunt Moll's here! GET YOUR THINGS!'

As soon as the door opened and the brightly lit hallway that came into view shed some of it's light on their faces, Molly's glum expression broke into a giant grin as she looked down to see a small blonde boy staring up at her with a huge grin.

'Hey Aunt Molly,' came out the happy, voice of an eight year old boy

'Hey there Micah,' Molly greeted as she bent down to ruffle the little boy's sandy hair.

'AUNTIE MARY!' the boy squealed as he leaped in to the woman in question's arms.

'Hey there squirt,' Mary answered, giving the little boy a peck on his head.

'Hey there sister.' Came a voice ahead of the trio. Looking up, Molly saw the tall, dirty blonde silhouette of Matthew Hooper.

Being enveloped in her brother's warmth lifted Molly's spirits a little, but growing up with people proved a disadvantage; he could literally see right through her. Pulling back he took her face in her hands, a frown creasing his handsome face, the dark eyes that were almost twins with the set belonging to his sister and daughter clouding with brotherly affection and concern.

'You okay Molls?'

'Nothing I can't handle. It's a long story.'

Nodding, knowing that's all he would get out of her then he moved to the side, in time to steer clear from the path of a raven-locked teenager barreling through the hallway into Molly's arms.

'Aunt Molly! I missed you!'

'Hey there sweetie how's my favourite niece?'

'Great! Hey Mary, how's it going?

'Great Marie, doin' just fine'

'The name's Rachel, Mary. It's Rachel Marie- not Marie Rachel. Stop calling me by my middle name- it sounds so common!'

'Just jokin' with ya Rache- I know it gets you all bunched up.' replied Mary, a smug smile on her face as she looked at the tan girl- who was trying hard to suppress the grin that would spoil her mask of feigned anger.

'Come on Rachel-get your bags and call your brother down; it's time for you to go. Hi Mary, Molly,' a stylish woman who was a splitting, older, female image of her son, appeared, giving the former a hug and the latter a kiss on the cheek 'I hope you won't mind- Rachel's friend cancelled last minute, so she's got no place to go. Mind if she stays at your place with the boys?'

'Of course, Mia; speaking of which, where's Charlie?'

'CHARLIE'S HERE!' came a male voice from somewhere inside the house. A boy who looked very much alike to his sister ambled down the stairs with three overnight bags in his arms. He set them down and kissed his aunt and her friend and quickly greeted them before stretching out his back.

'Mike, your action figures are going to give me arthritis or something.'

'Oh stop complaining and be a man.' His father said as he slapped his oldest son on the back, to which he got a reply of 'Ow!'

The three children muttered goodbyes to their parents and loaded themselves into the small taxi. Molly and Mary did the same a few seconds after.

'You're gonna have to tell me what happened with you sooner or later okay?'

'Yes father.'

'Good girl. See ya later sis!'

'Have fun on your honeymoon you two!' screamed out Mary, who had her head sticking out of the front passenger seat, and an arm waving madly at the couple standing at the doorstep of their humble home.

The cab ride home went on much faster than expected. That was a good thing, seeing how cramped it was. Mary sat with Allen on the front sit while the other three crammed into the backseat. Molly was aware of Rachel's eyes on her the whole time.

The apartment door opened to allow a trio of impossibly energized kids into their second home. The two bedroom-four bathroom apartment was suddenly a lot less empty, well; at least it felt that way to Molly as Her Mary and her set foot in the apartment.

'I'm in the bed with Mickey.'

'No way. You got that the last time. It's MY turn.'

'No way, my turn!'

'No, MY turn!'

'Why do you get it?'

'Because I am your younger sister and you have to make sacrifices!'

'Yeah, well, I'm taller, older and I have cricket tomorrow- I can't throw my back out!'

'Both of you CUT IT OUT! Rachel you get the sofa for today and Charlie, you get the bed. Tomorrow we swap and again the next day and so on. Got it?'

'…'

'_Got it?'_

'Got it.' Came the mumbled two-voiced reply.

Satisfied with the children's sleeping arrangements, Molly walked to the direction of the master bedroom to get ready for bed. Grabbing an old university jumper from her wardrobe, she threw at the general direction of Mary, who had to dive to catch it; in vain.

'Nice throw- amazing arm you got there.'

'Nice catch- your reflexes are getting better' came the equally sarcastic reply.

'Ha ha. You are HILARIOUS. Anyway…I CALL LEFT!'

'But I wanted left! Ugh, never mind, you take it then, I'll get ready- I have no more energy whatsoever.'

Rachel stood in front of the bathroom sink, staring at her tired reflection in the mirror hanging over the porcelain sink. She stepped back and leant against the light blue tiled wall opposite, her arms folded under her chest. Her raven, borderline curly, very bushy hair tumbled mostly down her to her mid-back, a few layered locks flowing down her front, ending directly above her chest, away from the splash-zone of toothpaste dripping from her mouth. The toothbrush wedged uncomfortably in her mouth was barely a problem at that moment as she stared directly into her reflection's eyes, deep in thought.

Usually, the girl was never one to care about looks- she knew she wasn't the hottest, but she wasn't ugly either. But she always wished she had the same clear blue eyes her brother seemed to inherit from their mother, the biological one of course. She was stuck with the brown, almost black ones her father and her aunt had, which was of course genetically most likely to happen, with brown eyes genes being the dominant gene and all. It would have also been nice to inherit the same curly locks he had (that with a bit of spring would look like an afro). That was something he had gotten from his, their, mother- it was one of the only things she wanted of her, but she settled with the same hair her aunt battled through and father had. if any consalation- she would end up like Molly and her hair would be beautiful, sleek and soft. Really, really soft.

But today was not spent like that. Rachel _knew_ something was wrong in her favourite aunt's life (her step-mother had a great family, but the two oldest Hoopers were never as welcomed as the youngest). It was blatantly obvious, in her change of posture, and the fact that her smile was wide, almost believable, but never reaching her eyes. Her hands shuffled around just now, like always, when she was stressed out.

Over what though?

Definitely not work- she was fine there, by the fact that everything work related was still neat and orderly and none of her possessions were sold or anything.

Her social life was going great; obviously, she was going to that party in two weeks anyway (they had gone shopping for it last weekend since Auntie had shifts for the next one)- so that was out.

Wait.

Mary was here, and that only happened when they had to gossip, about each other's dating and relationship problems; and Mary was fine, she was in an obvious ecstatic mood. Judging by the fact her phone was periodically taken out and checked every few minutes during the ride home indicated she was waiting, or thinking about making a call. But that could be looked at later.

It had to be her love life. Who could it be?

Aunt Molly wasn't dating anyone- the state of her flat made it obvious. She wasn't even seeing anyone, not even a blind date.

But she had (has?) a crush on that detective man that she new visited the morgue Auntie worked in… Sherlock Holmes, the man on the news. She knew Auntie played a big role in the whole fiasco the papers weren't allowed to go in detail about, and adults wouldn't tell the kids, but it was obvious.

Sherlock Holmes is the cause of Aunt Molly's current problems.

She thought some more. They were visiting the morgue tomorrow. Well, not visiting, Auntie needed to keep them under her watch, with an exception of school. Maybe, she could do a bit of talking with a certain detective.

A loud thud on the door and a loud 'QUIT HOGGING THE BATHROOM RACHE!' from Charlie made Rachel jump, causing the toothbrush to ram against her gum, causing it to blood.

Muttering a few very colourful profanities a girl her age shouldn't be saying about toothbrushes and brothers, she grabbed her toiletries (there was no need for another case of a red hair dye shampoo replacement situation again) and left the toilet, punching her brother in the stomach on the way out.

'Remember to take your meds Charles!'

'I know, I know!' came the muffled reply from inside the toilet as the door slammed shut.

Her brother had always been able to observe things like she did at an early age. However, his conditions somehow sometimes got the better of him and he would blurt out his findings, or just not notice, especially when he was in a minor episode. The doctor and therapist would never classify them strong enough to be episodes, but it really was, in her opinion that is. But she knew she would always love her brother and hope for the best sometimes.

She slid under the giant yellow blanket, onto the sofa, coming to the conclusion that her brother had either been to lazy to notice anything (no episodes for the past to weeks) or had, and would share them with her at a later date.

Rachel finally put her mind to rest as her eyelids finally drooped, her last coherent thought, surprisingly, being about the next school day.

**That's the end of Chapter 3! It's almost twice as long as the others but I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this- I know there isn't any John/Mary in this chapter and I only really explained Rachael (even then it was a bit vague) but I do promise to elaborate more in the coming chapters. I love all your reviews and I promise that any questions or queries about the story or anything else in the next set of reviews will be answered- unless you want big spoilers. Then I'll P.M you.**

**Please review. That little text box down there looks very, very plain- don't you think? So type in something and make it a bit prettier! It will be very grateful. Very, **_**VERY**_** grateful**

**Constructive criticism is more than very welcome, and I am sorry (it's no excuse I know) about the spelling and possible grammar mistakes in this chapter. Also, I'm sad to say that homework and school has been tugging down on me, so I may not be able to update as regularly as I do now, but I still won't abandon this story.**

**I'm suffering with a little bout of writer's block and I do have the main events of this story mapped out- but any ideas any of you might have for this story will be really helpful and if I use one, the chapter used will be dedicated to you!**

**So please review?**

**I love you all and happy reading!**

**-Ash **


	4. Cricket Matches and Drug Mules

**So, I got sick yesterday and didn't go to school. My boredom at home got the best of me, and I finished the chapter earlier than expected; so here it is and hope this is not hated to much:**

**oh yeah, disclaimer: if I owned Sherlock, i would be the happiest girl alive, which I'm not. I only own Matt, Mia and the kids :)**

John sat on the bed in his bedroom, getting ready for the day. It was about half past six on a Thursday morning; he could hear his sociopathic roommate outside his private quarters, fumbling around for his essentials; namely his trademark coat and blue scarf, and his smartphone.

Why was Sherlock Holmes so frantic at such an ungodly hour? Because he finally had a case. Well it was a small one really, barely above 5.5 on the Sherlock Case Scale, but it was a case; he needed something to get his overworked mind of the events of a couple days back.

The veteran didn't want to revisit those particular events. Directly after literally yelling to him about the argument he and the pathologist had, Sherlock had proceeded to grab his gun and shoot the wall across the sofa; a giant cross over the smiley face he had created six years ago and then at the cats in the garbage cans on the alley next to the apartment. It was a call from a frightened neighbor to Scotland Yard that forced Sherlock into the case- it was either that or he had to serve a few days, and there was no parallel universe that could ever have Sherlock sharing a mangy cell and toilet with obese, idiotic inmates.

The case was simple- just another bunch of ordinary, clueless and desperate drug mules. The first three had already been caught and were in custody; it had taken trained officers and D.I.s (not Lestrade- it wasn't a homicide) three weeks to fail and the detective an exact 25 hours, 41 minutes and 58 seconds. The last one was a bit of a muddle- he was a tiniest bit smarter. But he had a lead (thank you homeless network) that he worked at a school. As a what? They would have to find out wouldn't they?

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'Wakey, wakey, sweetie,' said Molly, who was showered, ready and dressed for work. She was currently bent over the bed in the guest room, her hair falling around her face and the small boy she was trying to wake, the dark tips tickling the latter chubby, fair and rosy cheeks. All she was greeted with however was a groan and a near punch to the mouth as his arm flailed wildly, in an attempt to turn from the noisy intruder.

Molly huffed slightly before yanking the boy up by his underarms and throwing him over her shoulder, his entire waist flopping down her back. The sudden rushing of blood startled the boy awake and before he could kick, he was lightly thrown back onto the soft mattress.

'Wake you brother up Mickey, you both have to get ready for school now.'

'Yes, Aunt Molly,' came the tired reply.

After leaving the room at waking Rachel from her uncomfortable position on the couch, Molly proceeded to make a light breakfast of toast and drinks; coffee for the adults and an assortment of juices for the children.

The small clock in the living area chimed, signaling that it was seven in the morning; the five people sat at the small; the three youngest shoveling foods at a most alarming rate. No less than ten minutes later all were standing by the front door, all with coats or jackets, two with handbags and three with backpacks slung over their shoulders.

'You don't have to walk us to school Aunt Molly, we'll be fine- seriously.'

'I know you will be, Charlie, but I promised your father- so let's get going.

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Rachel always enjoyed walking to school from her aunt's apartment. Back home, everyone would have to crowd in the family mini-van; everyone included Grandma, who was always so sure that her son-in-law's older children would end up like their mother. She always insisted on taking care of her grandchild- her 'sweetie-pie' and always insisted on him being on the window seat. Which meant everyday Rachel was stuck in the middle of her brother and Grandma, nagging her about the unkemptness of her hair, or really anything she could see (or wanted to see). And once she was done with her, she would move on to Charlie, who could never take it as well as her.

Rachel looked over to her brother. It was good to see him relaxed. She wished it was always like.

'So what did you see about Aunt Molly yesterday?' she asked, walking next to her brother who immediately slung his arm around her shoulders.

'Not much,' came the answer 'but she did seem down, from what I could see, with Mary being here and all- relationship girly crap?'

'Its not crap, idiot,' Rachel said, aiming a punch at her brother's stomach 'but yeah, it is her relationship, and I think I know who it's about.'

'Who? Don't tell me you eavesdropped on their conversation again. It's rude.'

'I didn't! It's obvious isn't it? Sherlock Holmes- that detective guy we've seen at the hospital sometimes when we visit- the one I swear looks a hell load like you grown up, minus the tan.'

'Oh yeah, that guy. Just try not to get to mixed up with this Rache- please?'

'I know, I know. Anyway- you all hyped up for the match today?' She asked, tapping the second blue sling bag her brother was holding, wincing slightly when her knuckles rapped too hard on the bat.

'Yeah, I am. But no way I'm bowling today- I threw my arm out and there's no way I can spin anything; and you know how slow my fast bowls are, but I am third in for batting with Mark Green in second- so I am definitely playing.'

'Great- I got permission from Miss Pacey to get out of English and Mr. Haven to get out of Math to watch you play- oh and I'm bringing Lily with me- so be nice.'

'It's not my fault she is creepily obsessed with me and that she's your best friend.'

'Shut up. Be nice.'

The group made it to a large three-blocked building, surrounding a large, artificial grassed field. Hugging her niece and nephews goodbye and promising to see them at the cricket match, Molly walked in the direction of the hospital, with Mary next to her.

'So- have you gotten back to John yet?' Molly asked- Mary had told her about the encounter the former had with the doctor, the day after the incident.

'Why do you have to keep asking me that? Mary groaned 'I'll call him when I do.'

'I don't understand why you won't- I know you liked him and you still do. He is a great guy Mary. He wouldn't have asked you to call him if he didn't mean it- promise.'

'I don't know Molls, I mean, it would be weird. Me being your best friend and he being _his.'_

'It's FINE. I promise- we are all adults and you are like a sister to me. If he makes you happy, then so am I. Besides, John and I have no bad blood anyway. Just give him a call.'

Mary thought about this for a second 'what if we have nothing in common, or we don't hit it of? Or-'

'But what if you do? You would be passing up someone really good for you-just try it out. What's life without the risks?'

'Safe?'

'Boring, and no fun.'

'Okay, fine. I'll call him. Oh, I managed to get a half day- I'll be able to make the match!'

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_Insufferable apes in uniforms, _Sherlock thought as he leant his lean frame against Lestrade's office desk his arms crossed over his dress-shirt clad chest. Lestrade had finally finished informing them of the plan that was to be used during for the arrest of the last mule ant the idiots just had to ask questions- and then question Sherlock's authority in the matter. Bringing out one of the apes fornication with another of the apes wives settled the matter.

It was nearing ten, and Sherlock just wanted to get this over with. He knew he could capture the mule without the 'help' of Scotland Yard. But whatever.

'There is going to be a cricket match at the school at this time Sherlock, kids will be there- so don't make too much of show on this one. You do know what cricket is, right Sherlock?'

'Don't be daft Lestrade. If I was a spin bowler and batsman at school, I am sure that I am familiar with the sport.' The detective replied curtly.

'You- you played? Who knew.'

'Is it really that big a surprise?'

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The school was a good one, Sherlock had to admit. Yes, almost the whole of the educational staff he had met on the way were a jumbled, sentimental and/or hormonal mess of affair, divorce and the ever popular mid life crisis, and the students as a whole literally stank of spoiled brats and idiocy, but there were select few that stood out to him.

They (Sherlock, John and the disguised posy of officers) walked passed the front gates without any commotion. So far, none of the guards had the potential to be a mule. They were either to stupid, or had families. Besides, none had been abroad.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and dialed Lestrade, who was somewhere else within the school

'Where did the mules consume the balloons?'

'Somewhere in Indonesia, if I'm not mistaken. Well, somewhere in South East Asia for sure- they operated for a famous drug dealer from one of those countries.'

'Good,' was the last thing Sherlock said before hanging up and walking along. By then they were walking along an impossibly giant field at the back of the school, where a cricket match was taking place. Sherlock spent some time to take a look at the team. They were playing a match of probably 30 overs and they were about half way through the second inning. The current batting team were the home team and by the looks of it, were probably catching up fast with their target runs.

From the looks of the players on the batting team and how tired they looked, it seems that they had just sent out their eighth batsman, but the other batsman playing was one with stamina, but was getting tired. He was probably second or third in.

That batsman was waiting next to the bowler, it was not his time to bowl yet- Sherlock was a bit disappointed, he wanted to see that happen, the kid managed to stay on all this while.

The bowler, Sherlock saw was obviously a reserve on his team, mainly because of his weak spin. But Sherlock could see that this boy had great distance; he was proved right as the lad bowled a Yorker that barely changed angle as it bounced.

Walking on ahead, Sherlock heard the voice of a girl, whose tone somehow reminded him of someone, he just couldn't place who.

'Excuse me, my brother's batting now-please move.'

The owner of the voice promptly crashed headfirst into John who immediately began saying sorry, when he saw the girl's face.

'M-Molly?'

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'Charlie's really improved in batting hasn't he?'

'He has- he's been training so hard these past weeks' Molly answered, watching her nephew run across the pitch, gaining another two runs for his team. A total of 83 runs out of the 115 they needed, and they still had ten overs left! The team was really playing well this season.

'Wonder where Rachel is.' Said Molly as she craned her head to look for her niece.

'Wherever she is, she's either watching her brother or in detention. Who knows? She could be solving a mystery. Maybe a bad guy got into the school and she's looking for him right now.'

'Don't scare me Mary.'

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'Do I look like a Molly? My name's Rachel, but I have always felt like a Mary.' The girl inwardly smirked as she saw the miniscule change in facial expression in John's face, knowing exactly whom her aunt and her best friend were talking about the other night.

'Oh wow,' she continued 'I just realized who you are! John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.'

'And what would give you that idea?' Sherlock asked, slightly impressed that the no more than fourteen year old could see through the disguises.

'I recognize your faces. How else? Other than the face that there are a bunch of officers behind you who are to proud to hide their badges properly. Besides, I'm not stupid.'

'Very good, now please, move along. We are here on important business.'

'Is it about the drug mule thing?' Rachel asked, smirking as she saw John stop and turn around, knowing she was right. The consulting detective turned around and bent down to her height.

'What makes you say that?'

'Well, the story came out on the newspapers a few days ago, and I remember them saying the fourth hadn't been caught; it also mentioned you were on the case. And from what I read from Dr. Watson's blog, you are not one to back down on a case, or busy yourself with another one while one is going on. So why would you be here? From what I have heard about you, you don't do…um…sentiment. So you wouldn't be here to watch the cricket match, since you don't have a son and none of the boys' mums on either team are single, so Dr. Watson is not on a date. So again, why are you here? To find the mule of course. I suggest you take a look at the janitor. He is new here, and he's not very nice. He tends to be quite high in the clouds sometimes, when I'm guessing he had just sniffed some, and other times he'd be pissed of and mean. Isn't that signs of cocaine abuse? Oh, and underneath his overalls, his clothes are pretty nice; he doesn't really button up. Why would someone with enough money work as something as boring and mundane as a janitor?'

Sherlock wouldn't admit it, but the young woman was right. He nodded his head curtly at her and said 'You're not as dumb as most people.'

'I take it as compliment from the great Sherlock Holmes. I'm pretty sure you want to know how to get to the janitor's area right?'

'Well yes we would.' Answered John 'but you can't come, this is dangerous- imagine what your parents would say.'

'Well my father and his wife are on their latest honeymoon, just my brother, stepbrother, my aunt and myself for now. Oh and I think my aunt's best friend to. They are very nice. Trust me when I say that my aunt is used to weird things happening to herself and people in her life. Anyway, you won't know the way. This school is really big. I suggest you let me take you.'

'Kid, this seriously-'

'No, let her come. Let the girl play detective,' Sherlock smirked as the girl nodded and turned, leading the way to who could really be the drug mule.

Rachel led the two men (they managed to somehow lose the officers on the way) down the winding halls of her school. Her slip-up on mentioning Molly, even though they didn't realize it was here, had made both of them either curious or suspicious, and she was plagued by questions.

'Do we know someone in your family- maybe your aunt?' John had asked at one point.

'Maybe, I don't know. She has a few circles of friends.'

'What is her name?'

'I'm sorry. I'm not allowed to give personal details to strangers.'

'Fair enough- could you at least tell me her profession?' Rachel thought for a moment. Maybe a simple clue to him would be all right.

'I don't se why not. She's an M.D. We're a lot alike, my aunt and I. Both of us have a thing for dead bodies and finding CODs.'

Sherlock watched the interaction in thoughtful silence. The girl did remind him of someone. And that someone was Molly Hooper. But Molly didn't have a niece- then again; he'd never met her family anyway, or even questioned her about it. The girl, Rachel, turned to look at him, and he was taken aback at how alike the pathologist and her were.

Suddenly, the girl stopped at a large window, and proceeded to open it. She then leant over and peered out.

'Hold on, we need at least a boundary on this next one if we want to win now. And all that's left is an over.'

'What's a boundary?' John asked, slightly confused at the random terminology.

'The boundaries are those plastic cones on the edge of the field. When the ball is within the boundary, it in play, meaning the fielders have a chance of getting it back to the wickets. When the ball touches or goes over the boundary after a minimum of a bounce, it gives the batting team an immediate four runs. Runs are points you can say. A sixer is when the ball goes right over the boundary without a bounce, like an American baseball home run, you can say. Rachel explained.

'Ahh, okay.' John answered, pretending to understand.

Rachel watched as the spin bowler let the ball out of his grip and groaned as the away fielding team cheered as it hit the batter's leg pad. The boy threw his bat to the ground and stalked of, as the tenth batsman replaced him. Had that much time gone past already? The new batsman hit another run, leaving them to get three runs in four balls.

'What happened? Why is he out?' John asked, slightly interested.

'A LBW. How careless could he have been?' sighed Rachel. Noting the look of confusion at the abbreviation, Rachel continued. 'Leg Before Wicket. The bowler has to try to hit those wickets behind the batsman. If he does, then that batsman is out of the game. If the batsman has his leg right in the path of the wicket and the ball hits it he is out. That's why it called Leg Before Wicket.'

'Oh.' John answered, understanding the rule. Kind of.

She was glad to see her brother, though tired out, still in the game. The bowler stood ready, before running forward and throwing his arm out in a windmill movement, releasing the ball. It bounced and changed angle, to the advantage of Charlie, who swung his bat out. The ball flew high up and over the radius of the pitch; eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd cheering the home team.

'Good job Charlie.' Grinned Rachel, the familiar feeling of pride growing in her chest.

'Is that your brother?' asked John.

'Yes he is, and he just won us the match. Look, the janitor's room is just right of this corridor, Room L2B. It has a big sign saying technician on it. Impossible to miss, really; I have to go congratulate my brother.'

'Of course, thank you- you've been really helpful.' Answered John a smile on her face.

A small jingle sounded through the hallway. Reaching into her pocket, Rachel grabbed her phone and glanced at the caller I.D. It was Aunt Molly. She was about to answer, when the jingle stopped. No more than three seconds later, it came back on; this time from Mary

'Well that's my cue to leave, my aunt just called.'

'Both times? Very unlikely. Who was the second caller?" asked Sherlock.

'It's a family friend who's here to. I have to leave now- good luck catching the drug mule or whatever. See you soon.' She replied, turning around and heading back the way they had come.

'What makes you say that we would see a little girl like you again?' asked the consulting detective, with a raised brow.

'A gut feeling,'

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Rachel ran across the field, to where the rest of her schoolmates were. Picking out her brother's curly black mop standing out above the rest, she pushed over to him and hugged him as hard as she could, screaming out her congratulations. She would tell him about her encounter with the source of her aunt's problems later.

And, oh, how much fun she would have with the two adults, maybe, as a side project, with their best friends.

If only the four adults could see what was headed their way.

**Hey, so I realized there are no interactions between Sherlolly and John/Mary, but it was only because I really wanted to get into Rachel and the men meeting for the first time. I promise for fluff for at least one of the pairings next chapter, and probably a load more drama.**

**I love all your reviews, and it would mean the world for more!**

**Especially to that poor button.**

**Ash **


	5. First Meetings and First Dates

**Here's chapter 5- it's a bit longer than the rest- but I hope you enjoy! Review at the end please!**

**I don't own Sherlock, or Benedict Cumberbatch, John, or Martin Freeman. Honestly wished I did though. What fun I'd have.**

**Enjoy!**

Molly sat at her desk, waiting for the next cadaver to be sent in. Apparently, this was a suicide, but the Yard was suspecting foul play. She swiveled around on her stool, tapping her pen; it had been a slow day and she was getting slightly agitated now that a possible murder victim was coming in. The kids were coming over, since both parents weren't free; the father at work and his wife taking care of her mother. It wasn't the gore that she was worried about; Charlie loved horror movies, Rachel wanted to be a pathologist to and Micah, Micah was at a stage where all liquids were paint. The silence in the brightly lit room was broken by the ringing of the intercom on the wall opposite.

Walking over and answering, Molly nodded and said her thanks as the guard informed her of the access given to three children and their mother to enter the morgue. Five minutes later, the morgue was filled with the loud, robust noises of two adolescents and their six-year-old stepbrother; following them was a tall, elegant, stylish woman.

"Molls, I know you're working, but I am seriously caught up with my mum being in hospital and all." The flustered mother said apologetically. Molly offered a small grin, slightly jealous at how the taller woman always looked impeccable, no matter the situation.

"Don't worry 'bout it Mia- seriously, its fine."

"Thank you so much- kids be nice, be good Rachel. Remember- not a playground, it's a hospital." With that, Amelia Hooper left the morgue with a fleeting smile to her sister-in-law/savior.

Molly watched the woman leave, before turning around and staring at the loud gaggle of children in front of her. Sighing slightly before clearing her throat, she placed her hands on her hips

"Hey guys. GUYS!" Molly yelled, grabbing the attention of her niece and nephews.

"I'm having a cada- body brought over, and it's a possible murder, so members of the Yard may be over. You can stay and watch, but you must be quiet and behave. Or it will be reported back to your parents. Understood?" she asked, taking an authoritative tone, and toning down her vocab to save herself from questions from Micah.

"Why were you looking at _me _when you said that?" asked Rachel, raising her eyebrows in slight annoyance. Molly rolled her eyes and smirked.

"Because, sweetie, you usually cause the messes,"

"But I do learn from the best. I live with my father."

"Okay, fine- touché. But do we have a deal?" Satisfied with the trio of nods, Molly turned around and sat back at her desk, filing away paperwork. Not five minutes later, she was interrupted.

"Aunt Molly, do you know Sherlock Holmes?" Rachel asked, taking the stool opposite her aunt. Taken aback by the randomness, Molly took a while before answering.

"Yes- of course I do. You know he used to come in here for some cases; I've told you the stories from before." Molly answered, frowning. Where was her niece going with this? Molly knew how smart and observant Rachel was- in a way, like Sherlock himself. She barely noticed the slip up she made by saying 'used'.

"Used?" Rachel asked; Molly caught her grinning as she herself winced at her mistake.

"Yes- we had a disagreement, him and I. I'd prefer not to talk about it Rachel. That alright?" Rachel saw the sadness behind the fake smile and reached over to take her aunt's hand. She may be cheerful, and sometimes rude, but her aunt was almost like her mother.

"It's okay auntie- you just seemed sad, is all." Rachel said "Besides, I heard you talking about it with Mary- don't worry everything will work out- I promise." Molly smiled genuinely at the sweetness of her niece. She sometimes reminded her of her brother, or even Molly herself. It was a weird combination- seeing that lots of the time she had the same charecteristics Sherlock had, but on a smaller scale.

Molly shook a head of Sherlock once again, and got back to the bunch of paper work she had yet to finish. This time she was given a total of seven and a half minutes of work before her niece's voice rang through her ears.

"Can we go out?"

"Why Rachel?"

"Please Aunt Molly? We'll bring Mike up to the play area in Mary's office- promise."

"Okay fine- but stay out of trouble and when you come back- don't cause a commotion." With that, the three kids all but flew out of the once again silent morgue; a silence that was held for about a total of ten minutes before the trolley holding Mr. William James Nebbercracker, according to the name tag tied to the trolley, rolled in.

Molly pulled back the white sheet covering the man's body, and immediately winced- how could the family recognize that? The head was disgustingly bent on one side, like a dent in a bashed car. The blood was cleaned off, showing the full extent of the indent. This man must have really fallen headfirst. That was one big ouchie, as Micah would have said. Quickly pulling off the rest of the cloth and sanitizing her gloved hands, the pathologist began her work.

Molly inserted her earbuds after getting bored of the silence. She hummed slightly to the song playing, sometimes mouthing the lyrics- she was never really one to listen to classical music. Unless it was on a string or woodwind instrument.

She started the Y insertions on the body, before slowly checking each organ. Well, he definitely wasn't killed by any chemical injections, or poison. It was obvious what killed him of course- the fall. But every good pathologist checked for every possible clue. Molly took her time restitching the cuts- the Yard would be over in only an hour and a half; it wasn't a homicide (yet).

The right side of the man's body was mottled with disgusting purple bruises. In her opinion, the body either crashed to the right after the head landing, or, the body was thrown, the right hand side aimed at the pavement.

Moving on to the head, Molly leaned in and took a closer look. The giant dent was, as expected, on the right side of the head. Upon closer look, she could almost see the print where the head fell on the crack between two slabs of concrete.

Molly turned the head over, and was surprised to find a different shaped, smaller dent near the left hand side. She was about to reach for the file with the X-rays of the dead man when she heard the swoosh of the door to the morgue swinging open, followed by the sound of heavy clad feet padding in. The pathologist slid off her earbuds and placed it around her neck before greeting Greg Lestrade with a hug and "Good Afternoon". She added a small nod and smile to Anderson, whose sour look was forced into a 'smile' of his own. Donovan gave the pathologist a once over and smirked at the long loose fitting lab coat.

"What's wrong with Dan?" Molly asked, referring to to the pathetic looking forensic pathologist.

"Well, you know him. He can't stand working with people he hates. Or people who take charge. There's only one person who excels in both."

"Wha-? Oh…OH…right." Molly muttered, slightly embarrassed, though she wasn't sure why.

"Yeah, well, once you kicked him out, again- good on you, he's been taking a hell load more cases. Anderson's been taking the brunt of it all. Not that I mind. The lack of him and Sally shagging behind his wife's back, means less sneaking out and no more late nights which means my partner D.I is actually paying attention for once." Molly giggled slightly at the thought before leading the three new guests towards the autopsy table. She was about to mention the kids, but decided against it. Greg knew them and didn't mind, and besides, they weren't here to introduce anyway.

"Um, Molly, before we start, Sherlock's been put on the case. He'll be here with John in a tiny bit. You don't mind, right? If you do, I won't hesitate in calling." Donovan snickered into her palm in a not so discreet manner, to which she received a sarcastic smile from the other woman in the room. Both were never, and would never be the friends. Or acquaintances, for that matter.

Molly turned back to the friendlier officer, "Of course, it's been a couple weeks. I can tolerate it." She said, forcing a smile as the snakes began growing in her stomach as her thoughts of the consulting detective she loved and hated intensifies, ten-fold.

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Mary Morstan sat at the desk in her brightly coloured office, staring at the cartoon farmyard adorning the opposite wall, namely at the grinning pink pig. In her arms was her black Blackberry, which she folded around over and over in her palm as she tried to reason her thoughts.

For the past hour, Mary had dialed the same number, over and over, each time hanging up before the call was even connected. _Since when is calling a man so hard? _She thought, frustrated. _When that man is John Watson_. Running her hands through her hair, Mary sighed, and dropped her head into her hands. _Come on Mary, get a hold of yourself, the worst he can say is no. The best? A date, followed by a second and a third; and we all know what happens on the third date. _The thought was enough to pull herself out of her position, and she grabbed her phone and hurriedly redialed the number before her brain caught up with her actions.

When it finally did and she was about to hang up, a deep, male voice replaced the monotone dial tone.

"Hello? This is John Watson"

"…"

"Hello?"

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Sherlock sat down on the sofa and proceeded to stare at the pockmarked wall opposite. _It's a shame _he thought, _that a completely innocent smiley was destroyed by a giant X. Not that I care._

He lay back (it'd be better to lie down, but going out in crumpled dress attire was not a trend he was going to make or follow. Ever.) and rolled his head back. His eyes now trained on the plain ceiling above him, making out familiar blemishes and marks made by himself and the previous owners. He decided to spend his time restudying each spot. He got bored after five minutes and in that miniscule moment of vulnerability during the change in mood, his thoughts shifted to the girl he had encountered, around two weeks ago.

The girl, Rachel was her name, was surprisingly attentive and tune to her surroundings, like him in a small way. It wasn't that that bothered him really, even though it's not everyday you meet a girl whose mind mirrored Sherlock Holmes', even if it was on a smaller scale; it was her physical appearance that grabbed his attention. Sherlock was definitely not pedophilic, he caught those people for a living, and he definitely did not see the teenager that way. It was the familiarity of her looks to someone he just couldn't place.

He sat there, unmoving and pondering until John finally entered the living room, fresh, and fully clad in his usual casual 'field' attire of a checked shirt and long cargo pants.

"I still don't think it's a good idea Sherlock. It's been two weeks only, and neither one of you have spoken to one another. This really isn't a good idea Sherlock." Sherlock grunted from his position "Don't repeat yourself John. It's infuriating; I do not see what the problem is anyway. Dr. Hooper is, as I recall no doubt correctly, a mature and professional woman who wouldn't let personal problems affect her work. It will be fine John. Stop worrying. Besides, if we don't go, you won't have a reasonable excuse to visit that pediatrician that has been keeping you unfocused for the last couple weeks, because she never called you back. I am sure you want to know why. Don't you John?" he ended his speech with a smirk tugging a corner of long, full mouth, noting with amusement the slight tensing and reddening of John's jaw, and the almost unnoticeable flaring of his nostrils: key physical signs of anger, annoyance, embarrassment, a combination of all or any two (in this case the last two- John rarely got _angry _at Sherlock over mundane situations concerning _his _love life. When it came to others? Not so much.)

"Bugger off Sherlock." John replied, muttering what was undoubtedly _you bloody git _under his breath, as he grabbed his usual brown jacket from the coat hanger. Sherlock's smirk grew even wider as he grabbed his trademark coat and scarf, before heading down the stairs and hailing a cab.

"Sherlock's been on an awful lot of small cases lately, hasn't he?" asked Mrs. Hudson, who had appeared from her own apartment after hearing the ruckus caused by Sherlock storming down the stairs.

"Yes, well, he just doesn't see that he misses her. Thinks it's the lack of adrenaline or something. Stopped listening halfway through the speech he gave." The lady in an alarming amount of purple smiled softly. "He's a smart boy, Sherlock. He'll come around soon enough, even if it isn't his field of expertise. Perhaps you ought to push him in the right direction first, John."

The man in question smirked slightly, "It would have to be more of a shove, really. He won't let me anyway and I wouldn't do it if he did. I'll just sit in the sidelines with my tea and watch this one through. Maybe give a bit of friendly advice, man to intelligent git. It's been amusing so far."

"Language John, and you better get going- Sherlock's going to have a fit soon." Right on cue Sherlock's voice resonated through the landing.

"John _HURRY UP_! You can gossip about me to Mrs. Hudson on a later date!"

John chuckled before saying goodbye to the landlord he almost considered a mother. Walking down the stairs, John felt the phone in his pocket buzz. It was from an unknown caller. Frowning, he answered.

"Hello? This is John Watson" receiving no reply, John frowned slightly. This had better not be a prank. "Hello?" he asked again as he stepped towards the open door of the cab, putting a leg through to get it. He almost gave himself a concussion when he banged his head against the roof of the car when the caller finally answered back.

"Hi John," came the female voice he had been hoping to hear from for two weeks "this is Mary, Mary Morstan."

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"Oh he- hi Mary" came the always cheerful voice at the other end of the line. It sounded a bit unsure though. _What if he doesn't remember me? _the voice in Mary's head pestered. Ignoring it, and feigning confidence she resumed talking

"Hey, is it a bad time?"

"N-no, of course not. I actually didn't expect to hear from you. I- I'm glad you called" Mary's heart fluttered and she immediately mentally slapped herself. Mary's heart never flutters.

" Well, I'm glad to. So where are you? Any new cases with the great Mr. Holmes?" Mary immediately regretted saying that, she didn't want to sound sarcastic about his best friend.

"Actually, yes- we're on our way to the hospital morgue to look at a body. Are you working today?" This time, her heart took a bunch of leaps around her insides. They would be in the same building! _Get a hold of yourself you idiot _she mentally scolded herself.

"Yes, I am- not very busy today though. No emergencies or appointments so far." She added the last bit as a hint. She hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"That's great!" the voice on the other end came out happy, but immediately sobered up, taking a more normal pitch "I mean, not great that you're working I mean, that you're there and free and-" He was interrupted by a light laugh from Mary. This man was adorable, even if he was a blubbering mess! No wonder so many nurses and female doctors gossiped about him.

"It's fine John, I get what you mean. How about, when you're free or after you're done with the body, we meet up for coffee or something."

"Sure- how about I meet you at that new café in the hospital you were telling me about, and we take it from there?"

"Yeah, sure, of course. Call when you're done?"

"Sure- see you then." With that both adults hung up. One grinning like a high school student in love, the other terrified, of the first impression that he would make on the date.

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Back at the morgue, Molly just finished explaining the second, smaller bruising at the back of Mr. Nebbercracker's head- a result of blunt force trauma. It was older than the wound made by the impact on the pavement, implying that the man was killed before the 'fall'.

"I found no extraneous levels of chemicals, or any that shouldn't be there. Everything in his body so far has been good, other than the heart diseases he's had from the type two diabetes he's suffering from"

"Ok, thanks Moll- Sherlock said he'd be here in about five minutes. Hope you don't mind us staying here 'til he gets here." Said Greg from his position behind Molly "Again- we can call him off if you don't want him here. You're the boss"

"I'm fine Greg, really, and you are more than welcome to stay."

The next few minutes were spent with Molly and Greg chatting like the good friends they were, with Anderson interjecting a few times. Donavan stood there, throwing sarcastic looks at Molly every time the latter had the former in her vision. Suddenly, a trio of minors crashed through the door, the youngest one whining and on the verge of tears.

"Aunt Molly, can we bring Micah over to the shop across the street for ice cream." Asked Rachel. Her older brother towered behind her nodding

"Yeah- he's about to break the dam. Please?" asked Charlie.

Molly was about to answer, when she was interrupted.

"The freak had kids?" asked Donavan. Molly shot her an unbelieving look.

"What in the world makes you think Sherlock Holmes spawned children?" asked Greg, shaking his head at his sometimes ignorant partner.

"Well look at the boy- exactly like the freak."

"You know- for someone who is supposedly a D.I- are you a D.I?" asked Rachel

"Well yes, of course. Wouldn't be here otherwise." Answered a snide Donavan.

"Okay, well for a D.I you are-"

"Rach- don't take it too far." Warned Molly

"Okay, okay, not too far. For a D.I, Miss, you are fairly, no, very, unobservant. I think it is quite obvious that the three of us are siblings, seeing that we do look somewhat similar. The fact that my brother looks like the 'freak' you were talking about- I'm guessing Sherlock Holmes- has nothing to do with the fact they are biologically similar. I just called Aunt Molly by the term 'Aunt'- indicating that she is the sister to either my mother or my father. I'm guessing you aren't the best of friends, by the annoying glances you are giving her even right now as I am talking to you- which is quite rude by the way- because of your jealousy of her. Anyway, you wouldn't know if my aunt had any siblings, let alone a brother or sister. Hopefully you realize that only females are fertile, so that only leaves with the 'fact'," she said, taking a breath and adding air quotations around the last word "that she has a sister. Do you think Sherlock Holes would shag my aunt's sister when he barely knows anything about her family?" she ended her speech looking Donavan, who was weakly glaring at the fourteen year old.

"Why you little-"

"Before you carry on on what is probably going to be a bunch of curse words I shouldn't be hearing, let alone directed at me, let me remind you that I am fourteen and it doesn't look good on a copper's record when it says that she decided to swear at an innocent child when all said child did was correct your really stupid mistake." Rachel cut in, with a sweet smile plastered on her face. Her brothers, even Micah- but he was laughing at the funny lady's weird face, Greg and Molly were suppressing laughs in their hands or shirts.

Molly regained her composure "Not the shop across, go to the café upstairs- they have surprisingly good ice cream, and no more being rude or you're grounded." She said." Leaning close she whispered, "Good on you- I hate her too."

"No time to say hi to me huh?" Greg directed his question to the three kids

"Hey Greg," Charlie greeted as the three kids hugged the detective.

"Heard you had a great cricket match Charlie- we were at your school catching a drug mule when you played."

"Yeah I heard, never liked that janitor- and thanks." The boy replied. Greg turned to Rachel.

"Still making fun of people I see," he said, indicating to scene that just played out between the teenager and the D.I

"Only the annoying ones Greg," she said smirking at the woman who shot a nasty glare at her.

"Hey Mikey- how're you doing?" Greg asked the little, blonde boy, who then hid behind his sister. "Still shy huh?"

"Yupe- takes after his mum." Rachel answered as she lifted her brother to pass on to her older one.

As the three kids walked out the door, Rachel couldn't resist

"Oh and Miss? Don't be jealous of my aunt- the forensics man does prefer her to you but will still choose you." She said, pausing as the angry woman's eyes narrowed

"So why does he pick me then. Answer me then smartie." Answered the lady, refraining from using more colourful adjectives

"Well, for one thing, you don't mind the fact that the two of you are cheating on his wife and kids. For another thing, your legs open wider, faster." Rachel grinned, as Molly turned to face her, her angry face spoiled by the barely suppressed grin

"Rachel- out."

"Okay fine. BYE GUYS!" she said, strolling out after her brothers.

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Sherlock and John made their way past security and headed down the familiar pathway down to the morgue. On the way, they bumped into two boys, the older one; a senior adolescent was carrying the pre-schooler on his back. Both were very different in features, Sherlock noticed, but both had the same bone structure, ears and mouth. Half-brothers, he decided.

"What are you kids doing here?" John asked. Sherlock normally would have protested, but he was curious.

"Could ask you the same thing. We have passes to get here." The boy answered, curtly. His eyes then trained on Sherlock's and both pairs widened slightly as they took in the similarity in their features. "Oh, you're that detective man- Sherlock Holmes. And you must be John Watson then. _That's what she was talking about. Guess I owe her her share._" The boy muttered the last bit to himself as he slid the smaller boy of his back. The blonde lad whined.

"Sorry Mike- my arm hurts from the game- I'll pick you up later. Promise." The teenager said, ruffling his brother's already messy hair.

"I'm Charles Hooper- my aunt's the pathologist working in the morgue- I guess you know her. This is my younger brother Micah." The smaller boy slipped out from behind Charlie's legs at the mention of his name and whined again.

"Ice cream Charwlie!"

Sherlock nodded to the boy as he walked away from them, his little brother in his hand. He looked a lot like him. Too much for it to be a coincidence. He would have to look into it later.

He strode into the morgue a minute later and the first thing he looked for were his experiments. They were moved from his usual bench, but were placed carefully on a smaller one. Good. Some of those cultures were obtained only by Mycroft asking for favours from many sources. Sherlock then scanned the room of its inhabitants. Donavan was silently, sulking in a corner, glaring at Anderson, who was trying in vain to be a part of the friendly conversation Lestrade and Molly were having. _Problems in the relationship. She knows he's been fancying Molly the whole time. _Sherlock deduced with a smirk.

"Oh look, the freak's here." Donavan said cheerily, her voice laced and dripping with sarcasm. Sherlock simply stared emotionless at the speaker before turning to the body. Molly, who was closest to it tensed slightly, remembering the last time they had been that close. She'd said some things she really wished she could take back.

Sherlock took note of her reaction. He wasn't angry at her about what she said, but he was…hurt that she basically said she rather him dead than Moriarty. That still gave him reason to not try rationalizing. He wanted her to break first. His rational mind told him to shut up and carry on with the case.

He looked at the body for a total of five minutes. He hadn't seen it at the scene, because of the fact it was classified a suicide. But he could make do with the body away from the scene. Sherlock took out his pocket magnifying glass and paid close attention to the feet of the victim.

"The wound's on the other side of the head." Said Anderson "not the feet."

"Anderson. Shut up. Your voice is going to cause everyone else in this room mental disorders, and one stupid person is enough." Sherlock retorted, carrying on with his investigations on the feet of the victim. When he was done, he requested for the clothes of the victim, which were passed on to him by Molly. He took to examining the shoes and trousers of the dead man, noting the white crystals on the insides of the trousers and the rocky soil under the shoes.

"He was killed on a field, close to a body of salt water, but not the sea. He was barefoot, but in his trousers, probably because he was wading into the water."

"What makes you say that?" Greg asked, confused.

"Look at his feet. See how the area up to the bottom of the shin is 'clean'." He started, pointing at the area "Above that area is a wavy line of dirt, obviously washed by the water he was wading in, but pushing some upwards. The other, higher area of his shin, up to his knees, are dirty to, but not the underside. What would he be doing that would make the front and not the underside dirty? He was sleeping most likely, on his stomach. Look at his shirt and you will see it is brown- with the soil of course. But that isn't important. Look at his trousers. They are ironed at the top, and dirty from the soil like the shirt, but look at the shins. They are crumpled. The man rolled up the trousers to his knees, so that they wouldn't get wet, but they do anyway. How is it when it's dry Sherlock? I can hear Anderson ask" Sherlock said, speaking in a squeaky register at the last rhetorical sentence, mimicking Anderson, who in turn scowled even more. "Look at the folds in the trousers. They are still slightly damp and are sprinkled with salt crystals, found in salt-water bodies. Why not the sea? There simply aren't enough, and there isn't one close enough so that the clothes the victim died in still held on to the crystal and still is damp; but there are a few areas with brackish water, namely man made lakes or giant ponds." Sherlock finished his speech, a smug smile on his lips. Involuntarily, his eyes searched the room for the only person who hadn't said a word since he came in: Molly. John had left the room during his talk- no doubt to meet his latest infatuation, Lestrade was arguing with Donavan over how correct Sherlock was and Anderson just sat there once again sulking. His face was like a giant, ugly, fat baby, Sherlock decided. Even his face made him nauseous with the idiotic aura it gave.

The nausea immediately gave way for another, interesting, unexplainable feeling in his stomach, as his eyes landed on the small, lightly tanned frame belonging to Molly Hooper.

She was leaning against one of the tables, her short frame looked even shorter as her legs were crossed. Her arms were to, he noted as his eyes travelled around her body, taking her in. He could see the outline of a translucent, cotton blouse from the parting of her lab coat. The blouse dipped a bit, allowing him the sight of the tops of the cups of her lace….

Sherlock blinked, hard, and forced his eyes to travel upwards. His mouth was slightly dry, and he knew exactly why. He could feel the blood pounding, but he was not aroused enough to have dilated eyes, yet. He rarely felt this way, but he _was _human. Despite allegations made by his insolent brother, he was definitely not inexperienced. Sober or not.

Molly had a small smile on her lips- one he had seen only reserved when he made his deductions (how many ways can one smile anyway?). She was currently watching the argument between the two , but looked up suddenly to meet Sherlock's stormy ones. They were so brown, and warm. There was nothing really special, he decided. But something about them was…interesting. _You mean endearing _his mind spoke to him. Quickly, he glanced away,

Screw her breaking first. I cannot work with an imbecile. He would talk to her today- in private.

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Rachel sat at a small,metal table, her phone in her hands, waiting for her brothers to show up. She'd left earlier than them, but somehow managed to overtake them. _I swear, if he's met another girl _she thought, getting frustrated. Her trained thumbs tapped furiously over the small keypad on her phone, texting a friend from school. Looking up as she sent the text, she caught sight of her aunt's best friend walking through the plain glass doors. She was about to go say hi to her, but her observations held her back.

Mary sat down two tables away, yet didn't notice her. Usually, she wasn't as blur as this. Something was obviously on her mind. If it was work related or personal, she would want privacy and would lock herself in her office- she was going to meet someone. There were no promotions open at the moment, because the archaic head of her department was currently buying a mocha at the cashier. Who would she meet?

Mary was wringing her hands, a universal sign of nervousness, a rare one for a person like Mary. _She's on a date _Rachel realised. She guessed it was one of the other doctors since it was in a hospital cafe. It would be easier if they were both still on shift. Rachel was a bit disappointed- she'd always rooted for her and Sherlock's blogger sidekick. He's cute- for an older man- for her. Just then, the blonde head of John Watson entered into the cafe, looking around. Rachel smiled inwardly as he found who he was looking for, and strode straight over to Mary, who stood up and hugged him. Both adults had wide smiles on their faces.

She watched as Mary stood up, and walked away- presumably to get refreshments. The man at the table looked around the room; Rachel turned her head as his eyes swept over her table. She didn't want him seeing her just yet. As Mary returned, with two paper cups and a plate of snacks, Rachel looked up to see the curly head of her brother.

"What took you so long? I left after you!"

"Ten minutes only, Ms. Punctuality. We were held up, you won't believe who we saw-"

"Shhh- look over there." Rachel said- pointing over to the couple two tables away.

"Hey, good for Mary- wait, is that John Watson?"

"Yeah it is- wait, where do you think you're going?" the girl demanded. Charlie look down incredulously.

"Where do you think. It's polite to say hi to someone you know."

"Well number one, she's on a _date_ fish brain. In case you haven't figured it out, it's rude to interrupt a date."

"Even when there's a fire?"

"A couple who don't realise a fire don't deserve to know. Now shut up. Number two, I've met Watson before, and he doesn't know that I know Mary and Aunt Molly- and they don't get to find out now."

"Why not? More importantly, how do you know him?"

"Well at the cricket match couple weeks back, when the drug mule was caught..." Rachel carried on to explain the story to her brother. "...and I know that auntie likes him alot, so you know, why not?" Rachel scooped up her second, forgotten brother, who had begun to whine. Again. Six year olds were the most difficult age.

"Be careful, Rachel- you don't want to get hurt, and it'd be even worse if someone else did." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on big brother- who got Lindsey Shaw and Michael Angelo together? I'm a good matchmaker, and it'd be no fun if I didn't have a fun accomplice. Whaddya say ma brother?"

"I don't know-"

"Please?" Rachel asked, giving her brother giant dark chocolate puppy eyes. She knew he couldn't resist.

"Fine. But I get no blame."

"Deal."

"By the way, I met Holmes too. Looks like I owe you five pounds."

"I knew I should have made the stakes higher!" Rachel huffed. Micah giggled as he was involuntarily bounced at his sister's actions.

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Mary felt like a bloody butterfly. She could almost feel the wings on her back. She was so happy, she was thinking like a woman high on crack. _Get it together Mary, _she told herself. Great. She felt like an insect and was talking to herself. It was amazing John hadn't fled yet. He was doing quite the opposite actually.

They were actually having a fun time.

The two of them had a lot in common, despite being involved in the same stupid drama. Both were in medicine, and loved it, both loved children, and ldon't forget their need for adventure!

On top of everything, John was a sweet man. All the other successful, handsome men she's ever been with were berks (bitch jerks) or just plain annoying. John, however, was different. Mary was by no means shallow, though looks did play a part in her crushes. She had a thing for the blondes. JOHN IS BLONDE?!

She laughed as John

cracked a hilarious joke, loving the way his dark blue eyes narrowed, forming laugh lines around his eyes and mouth as he grinned back at her. He was amazing, and she wanted more, and all they were doing was chatting in a hospital cafe, drinking coffee!

Molly kept up with the conversation. But a small part of her brain nagged her the whole time. Did he like her back? She DEFINITELY did, but if he didn't ask her out again, or said that he didn't have any feelings for her, she'd be crushed. This scared her a tiny bit- she usually wasn't so...weak. At least, not on a first date. There had been plenty of times when Molly and her had curled up on one of their sofas with wine, chocolate and ice cream and comforted each other. But it would be a first if it happened on a first date.

John's mobile rang suddenly, catching the two adults off guard. John frowned at the caller ID.

"It's Sherlock. Sorry, I have to get this, or my I'll be in trouble with the royal pain." Mary smiled

"It's fine- I won't run."

John ended his phone call a while later, walking back with an apologetic smile on his face.

"It's Sherlock- it's a new case, so we're visiting the victim's home and other suspects."

"Great- tell me how it goes yeah?"

"I am so sorry we have to cut this short, I wouldn't id I could but his royal pain in the arseness will not put up for it." Mary laughed lightly.

"Hey, it's fine. I'll see you next time okay?"

"Yeah of course- I'll call you?" Mary almost fainted. He asked her out _AGAIN._ Composing herself, again she said

"Ye- yes." So much for composing. Her eyes widened until her lids were almost invisible as John placed his lips on her cheek. Again.

She speechlessly nodded as he said goodbye and strode out the room. As soon as he was out of sight, she sunk down onto a chair. If he didn't call, there was a chance she would go beserk. A shadow crossed over her.

She could still feel his firm lips on her cheek, and she wondered what it would feel like on her own lips, and other areas...

"Hey Mary, didn't know you were dating celebrities" Mary groaned slightly, disturbed from her fantasy.

"Shove off Rachel."

"No- you're gonna tell me ALL about it." She said, pulling up a chair. Mary sat up straighter- this girl knew how to get what she wanted and Mary wasn't in the mood to fight.

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John was lightheaded from relief that the date had gone well. He couldn't wait to call her again. Whistling a happy tune, he walked over to the front entrance of the hospital, a happy bounce in his step.

_She has very soft cheeks._

"Shut up brain." John muttered as he stood out front waiting for Sherlock. Where on Earth was he? Bloody man made him cut his date short,then forces him to wait. It was amazing that he put up with him for this long. Thank god it had gone well. Mary was great. More than that. She was special.

He wanted..._something..._with her, John realised, a wry smile on his face.

He'd never felt that way before on only a first date.

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Molly didn't know how this had happened. One minute there was an annoying D.I, a friend, acquaintance and consulting detective with her in the morgue. Somehow, in the span of two minutes, it was just her and the detective. Currently the last person she wanted to be alone in a room with; and that included her mother.

"We're going to start on our suspects. You coming Sherlock?" Lestrade had asked, leaving the room.

"In a minute- I'll call John." Sherlock had said, and somehow, the other three had left, leaving the two of them staring at each other.

Molly was once again drawn into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes. This time they were stormy grey, and from what she learnt from her time spent with him after the fall- he was...emotional. She could almost see them move, like a fog, clearing for a hurricane. It was entrancing. Molly snapped herself out of it and glanced away. She was meant to be pissed at him.

_Meant _being the key word.

She wasn't really- she could never hold a grudge, but it was obvious the ship called 'Sherlock and Molly's Relationship' had sailed away, hit a storm, and sunk. He probably hated her for what she said. She almost cried again, as she remembered what she said. Molly just wanted to take it all back.

She blinked back the tears and let out a soft sigh, turning around and filing away paperwork as the consulting detective pulled out his phone.

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Sherlock stared at Molly. Her eyes, as usual, weren't much to look at, just dark brown. But it held so much emotion, so much sentiment. He knew it was all for him. All because of him.

They were warm, friendly, inviting. Everything Molly was that he wasn't, and probably would never be. He realised then, as an offhand realisation, that she looked alot like that girl Rachel he met, but he pushed the thought away as he saw those brown orbs he was so entranced by glistening suddenly, from pent up tears.

_I make her cry a lot. Too much._

He watched her blink them back furiously, trying to hide the crumble in her metaphorical walls, smiling inwardly,at her trying to show her strength. The young pathologist had changed so much, since they first met those years ago; him a drug addict and she a shy little mouse. She turned her back to him, silently, and began shuffling papers, her hands trying to find something to do, as if it would cover the awkwardness.

He didn't realise his own had reached into his pocket for his phone. Not until he felt the weight on his palm and looked down in surprise.

He let out a silent breath and began.

"Molly,"

"Sherlock,"

Both adults stared again, as they said each others names at the same time, the deep, rich and formal baritone contrasting with the soft, feminine, kind sigh.

It was time for the moment of truth.

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**That's the end of Chapter 5! I had a great time writing it. Just to avoid confusion- John and Mary's date happened during the talk Sherlock and Molly have (which comes up on the next chapter). So I hope it clears up any confusion you might have. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far and all the people who have favorited and/or followed me.**

_**Yukkin:**_ **Thank you for FINALLY reviewing **

_**Grace: **_**Thanks for the great review and for helping me edit this chapter and the future ones too- I make alot of mistakes I know. **

**Thanks to Colourful Magic and ukelelegal for the critism which helped alot and to magicstrikes and shipweiralways for reviewing every chapter!**

**Review?**

**-Ash :)**


	6. Resolutions

**Hey, here's Chapter 6! The title was thought up with the help of my home made editor, Grace!**

**Disclaimer: You don't want to know what I'd do if I owned Sherlock Holmes and/or John Watson. You really don't. **

**Enjoy:**

The staring contest actually went on for quite some time. It was neither of their faults, other than their lack of concentration and willpower, that they were so mesmerised by each others eyes. As usual, Sherlock snapped out of it first.

"Molly." She blinked and looked back up at Sherlock, this time with a firm stare, despite the rising blush that was making its way to her cheeks. Sherlock observed her this time. She was trying to hold herself, trying not to cry for once. She wanted to be strong.

"Yes?" she replied, willing her voice to not waver. She succeeded.

"Molly, I believe I owe you an...um...an-"

"Apology is the word I believe you are looking for." Molly said, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"Yes, though I am not the only one at fault here." Sherlock replied with a stiff upper lip.

"You know that I am truly sorry, and I was since those words left my mouth. They were in the heat of the moment, and I was bloody pissed at you for barging in and- well, you know, anyway. You aren't the world's only consulting detective for nothing, Sherlock." she said. Sherlock smirked slightly- she finally knew when to stop rambling.

"Well, Molly, apology accepted- I know you didn't mean it anyway. I think it is my turn to apologise yes?" Sherlock took a deep breath and stared into Molly's eyes "Molly, I am very sorry. Please forgive me?" Molly stared into Sherlock's deep orbs; good, he had her in his grasp. What he didn't expect was Molly to throw her head back and laugh. Sherlock, for a split second, stared in bewilderment, but quickly sobered and settled on an annoyed pout.

"May I ask why you are _laughing_?" Molly, who had sobered to mere giggles allowed chuckles to burst passed her small lips again.

"Never-thought I'd-see the day when- Sherlock Holmes- would - apologise!" she managed, through small giggles and coughs. noticing Sherlock's mask intensify further, she quickly sobered and controlled her breathing. It was time to get serious.

"Sherlock, how long have we known each other?"

"Molly, I don't think-"

"How _long _Sherlock, and no interrupting with anything else. I need an answer, please." Sherlock looked at her body language. She was serious.

"About six years." he finally sighed. Molly nodded.

"Exactly- I may have said this before Sherlock, I'm not sure but: I know I'm no consulting detective like you are and neither will I ever be, but I have known you for over five years, and despite everything, I still consider you a friend. When you know someone for this long you pick up a few things about them along the way." Molly took a deep breath. No more beating around the bush "Sherlock, everytime you apologise to me, I know for a fact that it is fake. You don't apologise unless you feel like you can get something out of it. I have never had you apologise to me for real- how do I know that this apology isn't just you trying to win your way back to my lab and have me be your maid all over again?" Molly hopped up on her desk, allowing her knees to dangle off the edge. She was surprised when Sherlock stepped closer, well, more than that.

He strode all the way to the desk and placed each of his large hands on either side of Molly, trapping her, giving her almost no space to even squirm away. He leant down the tiniest bit so they could be at eye level.

"I did once Molly." he whispered. Molly struggled not to let out any sound; knowing her it would be a moan. She hated the effect he had on her. His eyes held so much sinceriety

"What?" she asked._ NIce answer Molly. Now he's gonna think you are a nutcase, if he doesn't already._

Sherlock sighed. This may take awhile. "I did apologise to you once- at that Christmas party." Molly instantly rememkbered that horrible night, but pushed those thoughts away. Now was not the time to wail in self pity.

"I thought that was so that John wouldn't whack you again, or because you thought you would have no more access to-" Molly was cut short. Sherlock seriously did not understand or listen to any rules given to him.

"Don't you understand Molly?" his voice raised in volume as he turned and paced away from Molly. Both were confused by the disappointment at the lack of warmth from each other's bodies. So much for Sherlock that he involuntarily turned and walked over to her, again. What was wrong with him? Why did he want her to accept his apology other than for access?

Why was he so affected by her?

"I did apologise, genuinly, and I am doing that again now. Please, Molly. Please, stop being a woman and accept it because I honestly do not know what else to do or say." He had returned to his old position, this time however, his long fingers gripped the pathologists shoulders. At that moment, all Molly could think about was what does beautiful, slim, _long _fingers could do. _Shut UP. _she mentally screamed at herself. Of course she was going to get aroused by the bloody man she was having a heated argument with. The flustered pathologist sucked in a breath.

"You really mean this, don't you?" she finally said. The detective closed his bright, luminous eyes as he dipped his head down. The dark mop of curld tickled Molly's nose lightly. She liked that.

"Yes Molly, I do." he refrained from adding a _I have been trying to tell you this whole time_- he didn't need things to take a flying leap backwards to the strating point when the finish line was right in view.

"I-I accept Sherlock, but I swear, if you are acting a charade now I swear-" she stopped herself as tears began welling up uncontrollably.

"I'm not, Molly, I swear." Molly nodded

"Good. But a few rules-" Sherlock groaned, leaning his head down again, the top resting lightly on Molly's shoulder "I'm not being your maid, so get your own coffee. And no more sweeping in unannounced. You are not the queen, even though you in a dress would be...interesting" Sherlock snorted, muttering something about bedsheets being more comfortable "Anyway, you have to text me first- got it?" Sherlock paused.

"You really have changed Molly Hooper."

"Only to you. I'm like this to everyone else." he smiled lightly "Fine, I agree to your terms."

"Good. Friends?" Sherlock nodded. An awkward silence enveloped them. Sherlock began moving away, but a small, delicate palm on his toned bicep stopped him. He looked up into Molly's eyes. Damn those brown irises.

"Thank you." she said, before leaning in and pecking him on the check. She leant back, "For apologising. It means a lot." Suddenly, an annoying, high-pitched jingle filled the air.

"Damn it. Matty. My brother." she added, to inform Sherlock.

"Hello Matty?" She answered on the third ring. Sherlock didn't listen to the conversation, he was still in a state of mild shock at the random act of pure sentiment.

What scared him was that he liked it.

He still felt the mark where her lips met his cheek. It was a small, thin mark, like her lips, but it made him want to feel it everywhere. _Damn it. _He tried to delete it, straight away out of his mind palace but it didn't work. He almost groaned in pure frustration but just stored it away in his mind palace basement, where all the unwanted, but necessary thoughts were kept, like Mycroft's birthday.

Molly got off the phone.

"Sherlock, you may have to leave now. My brother's going to be over here soon and I have to find his kids. My nephews and niece are here." She said

"Are they the two boys John and I met outside the morgue? One a teenager who looks startlingly like me and a small blonde one?"

"You've met them then. Was my niece with them?"

"No female that I was aware of, so no. No niece." Molly smiled at his arrogance and certainty at how right he was.

"Well I'm going to round them up now, and you don't want to be here, trust me. My niece idolises you."

"Well, then, good day Molly." Sherlock smiled before sweeping out the room.

"Bye Sherlock." she answered before dialling Charlie on her cell.

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"So a little bird told me that someone went on a date with John Watson." Mary sat up, a furious glint in her eyes.

"Who? Name and description and where she lives." she demanded. Molly held back a laugh.

"Well, she's English, dark haired, about your height-"

"Whoever it is I'm gonna- wait. Oh come on. I haven't told you. Who told you?" Mary asked, slightly miffed that she fell for the prank, when her eyes widened in realisation. "Rachel. Damn that girl knows everything!"

"Well, she _is_ Matt's daughter. Remember the college days?"

"Haha, yeah."

"Now tell me how it went so I can tease him!"

"You'll do no such thing. Well, I was sitting in my office and..."

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"Rachel, Charlie we have something to tell you." Matt Hooper said, running his hand through his shaggy hair. Both children recognised this as a sign of frustration and nervousness.

"They are not _going _Matthew." hissed their mother from the large sofa. She was pissed.

"They deserve to know. I've been listening to you this whole time and she has finally reached out herself. You are going to let them choose what they want Mia. You are still their mother and you know it. Don't make this a problem" Matthew sighed, turning his attention to his children as his wife huffed and pouted.

"Dad is this about our birth mum? If it is, just tell us." Charlie began.

"Yeah, dad, we are old enough to know." Rachel continued. Matthew thanked the fact that his children were prematurely mature when need be. They admittedly got that from their mother's side.

"As you know your birth mother belongs to a rich family, but they would not support her if she kept both her children, so she gave me full custody, no hard feelings. A few days ago, she called. Her brother's birthday is coming up and we're invited. She wants to meet you. I understand if you don't want to go, but either way I am. It's up to you. Neither of us-" he said, indicating to himself and his wife "will object either way."

"We want to go. I have only ever seen her in photos. I want to meet her." Rachel answered after five long minutes of deliberation with her brother. They rarely did anything without each other. Her brother nodded as well.

"I still refuse to meet that woman again." Mia huffed as she left the room, heading to the direction of the master bedroom.

"Well, I got an invite for Aunt Molly as well. Do you want her to come?"

"She got an invite as well?" Charlie asked, confused. Matthew smiled, recalling his uni days.

"Yes, well, before you were conceived, Rachel, your Aunt Molly, Mary and your mother were the best of friends. They had a bit of a fall out, but that's a story for her to tell."

"Well yeah, I want her to go. Make sure she does?" Rachel asked Matt, who smiled.

"Of course, now off to bed."

A while later, Matthew got up to call his sister. Just then his phone rang. It was Molly.

"Hey Molls, I was just about to call to ask you something."

"Yeah, um, me first. Mary was invited to Enola's brother's birthday. Whoever her family is."

"Oh really? So were you."

"What?"

"Yeah, she wants to meet the kids and they her. Mia and I were invited and it extended to you. Mia's not coming, for obvious reasons including jealousy."

"Is it a good idea allowing them to meet her? If she's half the person she was last time we met, it's not a good idea. At all."

"Molly, it's up to them how they rate their mother. Not for any of us to manipulate."

"Yeah I guess."

"The kids want you there, for moral support. Mia won't be there remember? No way I can do this alone." there was a pause, but Matthew patiently waited for an answer. There were muffled voices in the background.

"Mary's going, so I'll go too" Molly finally answered.

"Great! Say hi to Mary okay? See you."

"Sort things out with your wife. Night big brother." Molly hung up after that, and Matthew did the same. He sighed. His sister was right- she usually was. He headed to the bedroom. He and his wife would resolve this. Now, and he had a good plan as to how. He smirked a little.

That plan always worked ever since he started using it on their wedding night.

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"Go away Mycroft."

"Good night to you to Sherlock. As you should already know your birthday is coming up. You are having a party. Be home the day before. I have already invited your friends." Sherlock snorted.

"I am not going to any _party,_" he said, spitting out the last word, "especially not my own."

"Mother is planning it Sherlock, and it's your first birthday we are celebrating since your return. You will be there. And before you ask, the diet is fine." Mycroft got up, his umbrella swinging around.

"No it isn't- you have given up on it." Mycroft snarled.

"Just be there. Nola will be there as well." he hissed before leaving the apartment. John watched the argument in amusement. They were the weirdest pair of siblings. He raised an eyebrow when he caught Sherlock's stiffer than usual posture.

"Are you okay Sherlock?"

"We are attending my birthday party by the looks of it."

"Really? Great- who's Nola?"

"Nola, as referred to by Mycroft and myself only, is our little sister. One I haven't seen in almost a year and a half."

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**Again thank you Grace for editing my million mistakes. **

**Review? Decorate that little text box down there- you know you want to! :D**

**-Ash :)**


	7. Feelings, Doubts and Relationships

**Hey guys- I know this is a late update and I am sorry! Anyway- thanks to everyone who reviewed; it really means a lot to me, so here are some shout outs:**

**magicstrikes: well, you just have to wait and see **

**Empress of Verace: it is, isn't it? Yupe, I've decided the brother's need some girl power, just to even 'em out. Well we just have to wait and see about their relationship. Thank you! It means a lot to know that my own characters are actually liked. Yes, it's time those two made up, and yeah, someone has some budding feelings ;)**

**Ssmil: I hope so, I really do hope it's interesting. :D**

**lostmypen120: hehe yeah- thanks for the review!**

**friend2friend1: yupe, a sister. An apology to what? Haha, well here is the update!**

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"Sherlock. I want the toes in the microwave cleaned out by the time I get back." John yelled to the living room as he grabbed his usual jacket from the coat rack.

"I wasn't the one who switched it on without checking for inhabitants." Sherlock yelled back from his prayer position on the couch. How annoying.

"Sherlock, seriously. Get it sorted."

"Or what John?"

"You don't want to know Sherlock- just get it sorted." John shook his head, heading down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson poke her head out her front door.

"Do keep it down you two- both of you sound like an old married couple." John turned into a tomato at that point. "Sorry Mrs. Hudson, but I can assure you that Sherlock and I are not a couple. By the way, could you-"

"Not your housekeeper John."

"Okay, fine. Bye Mrs. Hudson."

John strolled out of 221 Baker Street and headed down the road. After walking a few blocks, he stopped at a small, quiet yet crowded restaurant, it's name on a big, unlit, neon sign in swirling letters. He walked in, to be greeted by a short pale man, dressed in a vertically red and white striped shirt with a long 50's gangster moustache. The wide hat that topped of the look made it all the more comical.

"Good evening, sir. Reservation name?" the man asked in a nasal fake Italian accent. John stifled a laugh with a loud cough in his hand.

"I think a loopy moustache would work better for the look." John said; he couldn't resist the jab. The man's nostrils flared- short people did have tempers.

"I am sorry sir. Maybe in a few months. Reservations?" the man answered steely, his British accent poking through the annoying fake one.

"John Watson, for two at seven 'o'clock?" he watched the man's piggy eyes widen and mouth open and close. The out-of-water-goldfish look was completed by the man's bloated face turning a bright beetroot red. John smirked as the man fumbled with the menus in his hand, almost dropping them on a tray of full wine glasses. Regaining his balance he muttered "Right here sir, follow me."

The doctor was led to a small secluded area in the restaurant, a shaded area, guarded by a soft curtain. Inside, a small round table stood in front of a soft cushioned booth, the area dimly lit with two small candles flickering romantically on the centre of the table. John smiled; when you help the owner of a famous chain of restaurants with his scandals, you get good rewards. The man bowed slightly before waddling back out of the area. John sat himself down, awaiting his date.

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Not even a few minutes later, a small, young brunette entered the little alcove, looking around in awe. A few gold bangles clanged and sparkled as she moved her arm away from the curtain; her warm brown eyes twinkling in the dim firelight; her short, gold dress setting off her tanned skin, hair and eyes beautifully, the dip in the neck showy, yet elegant. John swallowed twice, and got up, an easy smile on his face as he kissed her bangled hand.

"Hullo Mary," John said warmly. The woman in question trained her eyes on the sparkling blue ones of the blonde man.

"Wow, John, how did you get this place? It-it must have caused a fortune!" Mary exclaimed once again scanning the small, secluded area. John inwardly jumped for joy- she was happy to eat here- and led her to the inner seat in the booth.

"Well, running around with Sherlock has it's perks."

"I'll say." The same man from earlier walked in, to remind them of the menus on the table and for their selection of wine. Mary, being absolutely clueless, declined the offer to choose, merely watching the way the light reflected off John's eyes, accentuating the bone structure of his face, the goldness of his hair, his...

"Sorry what?" Mary spluttered, thanking god that her skin was darker than most and that the dim light hid the heat rushing to her face. John chuckled at how cute she looked in a deer-caught-in-headlights kind of way.

"Are you fine with this one?" he repeated his question, indicating to the green long necked bottle. Mary could barely nod, let alone find her voice. She finally took note of the waiter in the room and had to do everything in her power not to laugh. _Hold it in Mary. Don't laugh at the man- it's not nice. More importantly, don't scare John away! _

Taking a deep breath and biting her lip, Mary smiled as much she could at the short man watching with wide eyes as he bloody _waddled _out of the room.

John knew what she was desperately holding her laughter about. He was doing the same for the exact reason. Once the man was out of eye and ear shot, he turned to Mary, who had bloated her cheeks and pursed her lips in order not to laugh. She caught his eye, and the look on his face must have been hilarious because she suddenly burst out laughing.

Mary thought she had blown it when she let out the first laugh, but couldn't control herself enough to stop; she nearly choked when John did the same. Normally she would have contained herself, but that waiter belonged in a child's cartoon.

"His...accent" she got out through another burst of giggles, causing John to laugh harder.

"Did you see the...moustache?" he choked out. Mary laughed even harder, before finally getting a hold of herself and calming down. John did the same. Neither realised that while laughing, they had unconsciously inched, just a tad bit closer to each other.

Mary couldn't resist, "You know how that man walked?" she asked John, who shook his head.

"Well, I've seen it." he answered. Mary took a big 'sip' of wine.

"I wouldn't call it a walk." she said casually, noting John's look of interest.

"What then?"

"I dunno- from the way he looked, I'd say a waddle." John immediately burst out into waves of laughter. His laugh was very contagious, Mary had to chuckle.

"Really? I guess so, he does look a bit like a sunburnt penguin on holiday in what he thought was Italy." Mary choked on her laugh and lightly whacked her date on the arm.

"Don't be so mean, John." she said seriously, with a wide smile on her face. John recovered and pretended to look hurt.

"That hurt. And you started it." he said fake pouting. Mary giggled before ruffling his shaggy hair. It was very thick. And soft.

Wonder what it would feel like on her...

_Snap _out _of it Mary._

"Aww is the little boy sad?" she said in a babyish singsong voice. John chuckled slightly. She liked his laugh. Well, she more than _liked _the husky..._sexy..._ sound that escaped his lips

_Mary!_

The chubby man reentered the room a few minutes later, not quite understanding why the couple in front of him where laughing, quite hard, as they ordered a pasta bolognaise for the gentleman and a spicy chicken personal pizza for the lady.

"Your food will arrive shortly." he muttered, bowing his way back out. Weirdos.

"So, how was work today?" John inquired. For a pediatrician, Molly led one of the most interesting work lives, ever.

"Mmm, today we had an arse load of mother's claiming that their poor babies-slash-princesses-slash-cutie pies or any combination had a fever-cold-sick blah blah blah and I sat through a whole load of is it serious? Will my baby be alright? Should my princess rest here for tonight?- I swear, mother's are the most annoying things on this planet if you are a pediatrician." John chuckled. Again. Damn his chuckles.

"Despite how amusing that was, the only thing that stayed with me was: arse load?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I've never heard anyone use the term arse load before." John said, a blonde eyebrow raised.

"Yes, well, now you have. Good on ya mate!" Mary grinned in his face as he chuckled. AGAIN. Was this man trying to kill her here? She had to change the subject. Fast.

"You know I got bitten today?" Mary bashed herself inwardly. _Great subject change Molly, just bloody _amazing. John's eyes widened, the corners of his long, thin lips dragging upwards.

"Bitten?" John asked, obviously trying to keep the smile out of his 'concerned' tone. Mary couldn't help but smile herself.

"Yeah, bitten. By a kid with a sore throat- viral infection. Honestly, it was a popsicle stick I put in his mouth, not a hot poker!" she said, grabbing a knife and fork to start on her meal; John followed, mirroring her movements with raised brows.

"I don't believe you were bitten by a child. Aren't those injuries reserved for the dentists?"

"You don't believe me? I do have proof you know." Mary answered, taking a mouthful of her pizza. Bloody hell, this food was amazing. John seemed to think the same, by the look on his face.

"This food is amazing."

"I know, isn't it?" John replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I still don't believe you, you know. Where's this proof you've been claiming you have?" Mary raised her right arm, resting her elbow on the table.

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John watched as Mary slid of a small, gold band off her right index finger.

"I don't normally wear rings, but I had to hide this." John stared, wide eyed at the small but deep, scabbing milk teeth imprints directly over the third knuckle.

"Children are violent." he managed. Mary chuckled.

"They are, aren't they?" she said in reply, looking at the bruise, not realising that she was being watched, rather closely by the man next to her.

"You know, I know a way to make it better."

"And may I ask, Dr. Watson, what this 'way' is?"

"Why tell when I can show?" the man said mischievously, grabbing Mary's palm gently. Mary almost choked, well, fainted, at what happened next.

John brought the palm to his lips and brushed the softest, gentlest chaste peck on the injured knuckle. The tingles it sent through Mary completely threw her of. She sat there gaping for a full five seconds before recollecting herself.

"Well, that, I can say, helped quite a bit." she smiled. Thank god for her amazing recovery skills, but she really had to stop blanking out.

The night went on for the couple in an amazingly positive way. Both adults could never imagine that a second date would be as fun as it was.

After paying, John walked Mary home; a woman in a dress she was wearing should not (well could not, in his case) walk about London at a night time so late. He was sad to know the date was coming to a close, but she hadn't objected him walking her home, so maybe...

No, he shook his head. It was only the second date- Mary was a woman with standard and morale and he had to respect that, although those thoughts flew out of his head as she laced her small delicate palm into his larger one. She leaned against his jacketed shoulder and looked up towards him, a small smile on her face. The couple walked back to the lady's house in comfortable, almost romantic silence; they had spoken enough during the date.

They finally reached the building housing Mary's apartment. The lady turned to him after walking up a few steps to the front door, mainly so that they could stay at height level.

"Thank you for the lovely evening John." she said quietly, her mind debating if she should ask him in, or not. She didn't want him to think her a prude, or a whore for that matter. He wasn't pushing her to do anything she didn't want though, so maybe... a cuppa wouldn't hurt. Right?

No. She couldn't. Not _just_ yet.

"It was my pleasure, Mary." he said. A slightly awkward, heavy silence draped itself around them. John leaned forwards and pecked her on the cheek, leaving her rigid and speechless once more, muttered goodbye and promises to call, and turned to leave.

Regaining her senses, Mary called back, "Wait!" John turned around, a questioning look in his eyes as he gazed up to her. Mary walked down a couple steps before placing a small kiss on his lips.

It was a small kiss, no more than three seconds, closed mouth and very chaste and sweet. But the feelings, and thoughts running through the couple's minds were not very chaste, or sweet for that matter. John's arms moved from their default position to her small, round face. Mary's hands were already rested on the slight stubble on his cheeks.

Mary pulled away, trying her best to keep control. "Goodnight John." she whispered to him, her hands reluctantly pulling away from the textured cheeks before turning and hopping (yes, hopping) back up the stairs.

Mary refused to turn around. She'd probably run back into him and try to ravish him right there. No. She was a woman of class- she had to be, or her mum would have her head. She jogged as fast as she could in the bloody heels she was wearing to her room, kicking them off and proceeding to dial her best's friends number.

"What Mary?" came a groggy, hoarse voice.

"I kissed him! I kissed John sodding Watson!" the rustling in the background probably meant that the listener had woken up and was more alert.

"What? No- tell me everything!" Molly cried, the sleep apparently washed away. Mary fell back onto the couch before she launched into her new tale.

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Amelia Lilian Hooper sat in her expensively furnished living room, in her special chair, awaiting her husband. Hearing said man walk in, her already perfect posture straightened even more.

"Matthew, we have to talk." she greeted, with a clipped tone. Matt sighed; usage of his full name meant he was in trouble.

"Fine," he answered, resignation clear in his voice. "What do you want to talk about."

"You know fully well want we are going to talk about. They are NOT going to that party." Matthew cringed slightly at the force in her voice, before leaning forward and covering his face with his palms.

"Mia, we have been through this-"

"No Matt, I don't want them anywhere near that woman."

"That woman, Mia, is the reason why Rachel and Charlie are even in this world." Matthew said, the anger showing in his voice.

"Why are you defending her? That woman was, and is nothing but trouble." Mia cried out, standing up and thundering over to her husband.

"First of all, that woman was someone we went to uni with. The woman you and my sister were friends with-" Matthew said, trying hard not to yell and make things worse. He stood up, so that their heights were more balanced.

" 'Were', being the key word." Mia huffed out, crossing her arms.

"You still were best friends, the three of you. Second, she may have been trouble, but what about now?" he asked, holding his wife's shoulders, gently massaging the flesh with the pads of his thumb. Mia physically drooped from her pristine posture and sighed tiredly.

"I know. It's not." she sighed out, looking anywhere but into her husband's eyes. Matthew was taken aback when he saw the silent tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, embracing her softly. He was surprised again when she almost sunk into his arms. Mia was never one to show so much...defeat? No...it was just simple sadness. Her silent tears morphed into body racking, loud sobs.

"I-I don't want to lose the-them. The-They are m-my kids." She cried out, burying her face in Matthew's old t-shirt, soaking it in tears.

"Hey, you aren't going to lose them, Mia- you never will. Shhh." he soothed, not really knowing what to do. It was not everyday when a man had to reassure his wife that their children would not leave her for someone they would meet in a few days time.

He couldn't, however, let her win. Not this time. The children deserved to know who their birth mother is. Where they got their looks, and some of their traits. He took a deep breath.

"Mia, I know you don't like it- and honestly I'm not loving it either, but Enola reached out to them. They deserve to know and you know it as well. Please don't make this harder than it already is, please." a muffled nod and "okay" into his chest was confirmation enough for him tonight.

"I promise, none of us will leave you." he said, pulling away and kissing his wife softly on the forehead.

"Can we go to bed?" Mia asked softly, almost like a child rather than adult. Matthew smiled softly at his wife.

"Of course, after you."

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The next morning, Matthew left for work, to finish his weekend shift, waving goodbye to his two older children sitting in the small garage given to them by their parents when they decided the car could be parked outside the home.

He smiled as his kids waved back; knowing that there was nothing that would tear his family apart. Not as long as he was around,

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"So what do you think?" Rachel asked, stepping away from a painted canvas, eyeing the mass of colours before glancing at her brother, who stood next to her, staring at the painting.

"Amazing Rachel, seriously. You're getting even better." he said in awe, staring at the semi-abstract piece in front of him. He could make out the blurry lines of what was meant to be the Big Ben and London Eye.

"Thanks, Charles," Rachel said, smiling up at her brother. He was always there when she painted. He was the inspiration for almost everything, including the murderous, bloody clown hanging on one of the non-muraled walls and he had helped, a lot, with the walls that were decorated with random murals; but he was half the thought behind them only-the boy couldn't paint a decent sun to save his life.

"What do you think of that...thing we have to go to next week?" Rachel asked, clearly indicating to the party they would have to attend if they wanted to meet their birth mother. And they did want to. Charlie chewed the inside of his cheek in deep thought before answering

"Honestly, I don't know what to think. I mean, I want to meet her, but, what happens when we do?"

"Yeah I know, exactly what I thought. And why on all days on her brother's bloody birthday party?" Rachel replied, frowning at the random bizarreness of it all.

"Well, I'm guessing she wants her family not so concentrated on us, so she placed it on a big day for them. She may also be really close to this brother of her's, if he knows she's invited us and all that. If the first is true, which it probably is if dad told us the truth, her family will not be our biggest fans."

"Ooooh," Rachel cooed at her brother "Someone's getting intelectual." she teased, poking him in the ribs.

"Shut up Rachel." he replied, poking her back, to which he was greeted with a paint brush whacking the side of his face. He could feel the lime green paint run down the side of his head. Examining the colour, when he wiped the drying liquid from his cheek, and completed canvas he said "Where did you even use this colour?"

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Sherlock strode into the familiar white washed morgue, John trailing somewhere behind. Molly wasn't in, it didn't matter he decided, she had already given him the green light to visit today. He sat at his stool and grabbed his desired culture, examining it carefully. The room was silent- John still wasn't here.

Damn. Sherlock huffed, annoyed. He wanted his coffee! Ever since that date he had with that annoying pediatrician; when was that? a week ago? no...a month. Wait- it was probably yesterday. Sherlock whizzed around his mind palace before finding the answer he needed. John could get emotionally high very fast. So _irritating_. How did he even meet this one?

Right, Molly's friend. As he thought of her, the pathologist entered, carrying a small paper tray with three cups of coffee. She jumped a little in surprise, before recovering and smiling warmly.

"Morning Sherlock," she said, handing him a cup. "Your usual." she said before looking around the room "Did John not come?" she asked

"He did- he just wants to pursue your friend. From what I can tell, they probably moved into a more physical area in their relationship."

"Well that's one way of putting it." Molly chuckled.

"Shut up Sherlock. I just had to use the WC" John muttered angrily a he walked into the morgue, smiling at Molly as she handed him his Earl Grey, white with one sugar.

"So how was the date? Anything serious?" Molly asked casually, smirking as she watched John splutter

"Um...yeah..it...was...um..fun..er-" Molly laughed at John's sudden lack of vocabulary.

"Yes I'm sure, but anything...physical?" Molly chuckled, watching John's face turn the lightest shade of pink

"Uh...um...er...-" John spluttered again, his face resembling a blonde beetroot.

"Oh it's okay, John. Mary told me everything, anyway." Molly giggled at John's face as it turned into a tomato. It was quite funny how his face resembled various foods when he was embarrassed. Sherlock smirked, watching the entire exchanged in amused silence.

John found a way to change the subject.

"Sherlock don't you have something to ask Molly?" he asked. Sherlock frowned, before frowning even more in disgust when he recalled what he actually was there for. Molly raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"Molly, I'm forced, by my irritating family to throw a party to celebrate yet another year of my very needed life. I'm supposed to invite...friends. Would you like to come?" he said in a monotone, stoic manner. It sounded more like a call into the military, rather than a birthday invite.

"Sure, of course Sherlock," she replied "when is it?"

"Next week, today."

"Oh sure I'll- wait, sorry, I can't Sherlock." Molly answered, an apologetic tone to her voice. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in what was probably annoyance.

"Not to be prying, but why?" John asked in confusion.

"It's fine John, it's just that, well... I have a function to attend. Family matters." Molly answered. _She answered carefully; she's searching for words. Fidgeting hands. She lied, but not really. Uncomfortable because full truth not said to close friends_ Sherlock deduced, watching her movements. He was going to find out exactly what her secret was, at a later date of course. Right now he had very current, pressing problems.

He felt...annoyed that Molly couldn't come to the party. Why though? It wasn't like she was important. Sherlock immediately erased that thought. He had to stop lying to himself. Of course she mattered. As a friend. A collegeauge. The pathologist had helped and housed him when he was a fraud, in his time of need. She was HIS pathologist.

That was it. She was HIS. But why was he feeling this...possession? Another thought clicked. It wasn't annoyance- he was disappointed that she wouldn't be there on his birthday.

But why was he disappointed then? Why did he want her there so badly? Was it her rather silly, not so funny, but endearing (almost) humour? Her constant cheerfulness?

What was it about Molly that was making him so-?

Oh. _oh_.

Well, this was a situation.

Bloody _**hell**_.

Sherlock shook his head as he swooped out of the morgue. He wanted to go home to his mind palace. Maybe for a day or two.

If John left him alone, a week. Maybe even a month. It may take that long to process. Then a lot more to plan the proceeding actions.

But for now the detective had to come to terms that he, Sherlock Holmes, may have feelings for one Dr. Molly Hooper.

**Well that's the end. I'll try updating more frequent.**

**Review?**

**-Ash **


	8. New People, New Surprises

**Oh my gosh- 60 reviews! I love you. All those people who review my work, or P.M me about it, or even just read it- thank you all SO much you people are amazing.**

**Just to clear this and hopefully avoid confusion, the timing headings I added at the start of most of the scenes are in relation to the first, so the second scene is set eight hours before the first, and the third five hours before the first ****scene and so on.**

**Hope it doesn't confuse to much!**

**I don't own Sherlock, I just watch it...a lot.**

**New Chappie:**

In a moderate sized black artistically graffitied bedroom, a young, usually high and wild spirited girl sat at her dresser, her usually smiling face serious as she combed her black waves with her fingers.

For the millionth time.

_That's it. Ponytail it is._ Grabbing a big, soft scrunchy, Rachel pulled her hair back, tying it back and allowing the long black curled rope flow thickly to her back.

Rachel was- not that she'd admit it- was nervous. What if her mother hated her? What if she was nothing like her? Random questions like these disturbed the young, intelligent mind. Sighing, she stood up, smoothing out the creases in the mid thigh, fun green dress. Walking over to the small cupboard that held her shoes, Rachel noticed the pair of annoying heeled Mary Janes her mother (the step of course) had put out for her. Wrinkling her nose, she crouched, yanking out a pair of worn black ankle boots.

Grabbing her pocket sketch book and Artline pen, she placed it one of the pockets her dress came with and flopped onto her bed.

She didn't want to go. She did, but she didn't. Sighing, Rachel dragged her hand down her tanned face. She'd rather sit through another history lecture with boring old Ms. Joystick or whatever her name was than go to that stupid party.

Rachel let out a grunt, flipping over to lay on her stomach, randomly. Her face fell onto the soft, furry head of a teddy bear. In a sudden burst of emotion, she picked the toy and flung it across the room. The tugging questions on her mind intensified, leaving the teenager to be even more terrified of the outcome. She didn't understand why this was happening to _her_- Rachel was never one to express so much emotion, well, negative emotion anyway.

She felt like the star in a chick flick for crying out loud.

She tried slapping herself out of it, only to pull her palm away in surprise as she felt the wet tears that had begun streaming. The leaking dam broke, suddenly and waves upon waves racked her small frame with silent sobs.

A knock on her door startled the girl. It was a hard knock, three times to the upper right hand side of the door. It had to be a male, but dad was left-handed and to short, and so was Micah, definitely. It may have been her mother judging from the height of the knock, but she was one to barge in, not knock.

"What do you want Charlie?" she winced as she heard the hoarseness in her throat, but was still proud that she could be so observant, even through all the negative emotion. Her brother came in, the look of mild annoyance immediately replaced by concern as he walked over to the bed before sitting on the soft mattress.

"What if she hates me Charlie?" she asked, a new bout of waves streaming down. The older brother moved, laying down next to his sister, while placing his arms around her, resting her head on his shoulder. He ran his hands through her hair, saying nothing.

That was enough, really. She just wanted him there.

A few silent minutes later, Charlie informed his sister that it was time to leave; Mary was here with Auntie. Forcing her up, he cleaned up his sister, forcing her into using baby powder at least to hide the slight reddening around her eyes and nose.

He hoped to whatever higher force on or around Earth that that family liked them; for his sister.

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_8 hours earlier_

Sherlock sat at the back of the black Mercedes, pointedly staring out of the black tinted windows. He wanted to punch John. Bloody bastard was smirking at him; Sherlock could almost feel the want his friend had to see "Sherly's old home".

He shot another glare at the blonde man, who bit back another laugh.

"Shut up John."

"I didn-"

"You thinking and laughing. I will kick you out of here anytime."

"No you-"

"Shut _up_." Sherlock sent another death glare at the sniggering idiot next to him. A good ten minutes later, the mysterious car drove past a large gate guarding a monstrous, beautiful estate. Sherlock smirked at John's expression of awe. He always wore his every emotion on his face. Only one other person he knew was capable of doing that. Molly.

Molly.

_Crap._ Sherlock shook his head, clearing his mind away from the young pathologist.

He didn't realise that the car had finally come to a screeching halt. What was wrong with him? He refused to look at John's obviously concerned and confused gaze, so he abruptly slinked out of the car, slamming the door shut. He pushed his dress coat (the Belstaff was packed neatly in the overnight trunk) back and placed his spidery hands over his thin leather belt, sighing dramatically when he saw the three figures in the distance.

One of the three was gaining speed and distance from the other two as she- yes she- ran towards the pale detective. John raised his eyebrows in confusion. Who was this woman and why- why in hell was Sherlock _smiling_? John's brows were almost up to his hairline when the woman finally came into view.

_Jesus. _It was a bloody female Sherlock Holmes! John almost thought he was dreaming and nearly pinched himself when said woman literally crashed into Sherlock, hugging his thin waist. The man in question proceeded to pick her up (how was he so strong? he was a pole for god's sakes!) and drop her back down, chuckling.

_Chuckling. He was CHUCKLING._

_It's the end of the world. We are all going to die._

_Why in the name of Christ is Sherlock Holmes _chuckling_?_

Sherlock laced a long arm around the woman's small hip. Like Sherlock she was tall, skinny and lanky, with long black tresses and impossible cheekbones and eyes. In other words, she was hot. The tall platforms she was in raised her to the detectives height, and her smile was wide, growing wider still when she caught sight of John.

"Oh HELLO!" she cried out, her tone almost matching a child's "so nice to meet you- you must be John. I have heard SO much about you!"

"W-Wish I could say the same." John stuttered, weakly accepting the long bony hand that was shoved in his face. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"John, meet my sister Enola Holmes." John never had a chance to reply to that. They may have been similar in looks, but where Sherlock was a polar ice cap, Enola was a loud, colourful, equatorial rainforest.

"Just like Sherlock- keeping everything a secret. Well it's alright- we are obviously going to get along great! You put up with my brother here for so long anyway!" John laughed, agreeing with the beautiful woman. He easily fell into a comfortable chat, but was interrupted when the other two figures finally appeared.

"Brother." Mycroft Holmes nodded as he clapped his brother on the back.

"Gave up on the diet have you Mycroft?" Sherlock asked eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Shut up, Sherlock."

"Dear brother, I am just stating obvious facts, like this one: you have put on more weight haven't you? Three kilograms?"

"Sherlock, shut up now. It's two point five."

"Definitely not. Three, maybe even a half kilo more."

"Boys, boys, do be _quiet_. What rule did we agree on?" a tall, elegant, willowy woman in a long silk dress and shawl asked, her voice soft and musical, yet so very strict.

"No fighting on each others birthdays." the two men mumbled. John held back a snort. Who knew the British Government and The World's Most Stubborn Man Child/ Consulting Detective were scared of their mummy?

"I didn't hear that," the woman said, smirking at the discomfort she was causing. Both men bowed their heads and shuffled, like naughty schoolboys, and repeated what they said earlier, only a few notches louder.

"Each other's birthdays, what?" she asked

"This really isn't the ti-" Mycroft began only to be interrupted by his mother repeating the question.

"No fighting on each other's birthdays, _Mummy_."

_Holy crap, they called her_ Mummy. John snorted into his palm, involuntarily turning all the attention on him.

"Mummy, this is John Watson."

"Oh yes, yes I've heard of you so much!" the woman answered, walking over to John and squeezing his cheeks.

"Nice to meet you to." John answered, his words muffled by his painfully gripped cheeks. Was this woman really Sherlock's mother? The lady finally let him go.

"Well, I am the woman who broke her back taking care of those two," she said, indicating to the two men (who scowled) behind her "my name is Aliana, but please, just Alia will do."

"Of course Mrs- Alia" John said. She turned her back, and he immediately rubbed his reddening cheeks.

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_5 hours earlier_

John sat in a massive room, apparently the tea room, with Sherlock and his sister, Enola. The last three hours were spent tasting different types of birthday cakes (the chefs had very large palettes) and picking decorations for the party. Of course, Sherlock refused to have any say in it, other than the usual complaints about the stupidity of it all (but only when 'Mummy" wasn't there)

He also gathered quite a bit of information about his best friend. Sherlock had a very, very close relationship with his sister; both were like peas in a pod. It was almost unbelievable (some probably were) the stories Enola - Nola he was to call her - told John about Sherlock and herself as children.

Sherlock actually sounded like a normal boy.

The detective was quiet, choosing to sit in embarrassment, on the stool next to John and opposite his sister. The blonde man could sense his discomfort a mile away, but his sister? She was either not as close to him as she thought, was oblivious, or was just ignoring it.

"So are you seeing anyone- any date that's going to come?" John never got to reply. Sherlock probably decided that the world was missing him. "He is. This was meant to be a second date with some pediatrician from the hospital I go to. Friends with the pathologist who assists me. Not as stupid as the rest, tolerable so far. Couldn't make it today- said she was busy with work, but obviously has a personal matter to attend to judging from all the nervous shuffling she did when they talked." Sherlock said, picking his nails before rolling his eyes at John as he sat there with wide eyes.

"She was lying when she told you." He said with that you-are-so-stupid voice of his.

_Personal problems?_ Could it be another man? John couldn't help but wonder.

"What about you Sherlock?"

"Nope, just the pathologist." John replied, to which Enola just sat back, a smile and twinkle in her eye decorating her face. Sherlock stared curiously at her.

John was about to excuse himself. There was something very private about what was going on right then. Just then, a young woman walked over to inform the three adults that Mr. Watson's room had been prepared. Excusing himself, John left the two siblings to catch up.

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"So your children will be here?" Sherlock asked. He knew that Enola knew something about Molly- she had that look on her face when he mentioned pathologist, and he hadn't even said her name. But the only way to get anything out of her was to weaken her defenses. He smirked a little inside when he saw her bubbly demeanor sober, yet felt a twinge of guilt- she was his sister after all.

"Yes Sherlock, they will, and I have no idea if they will hate more or be nothing like me or-" she stopped with a sigh "I'm scared Sherlock. Bloody scared." she muttered, slouching.

"Why would they hate you?"

"Because I gave them up."

"But you had to- Father made you."

"Yes, well they don't know that. Oh, a few college friends will be coming as well."

"What? Why? I refuse to converse." Sherlock demanded.

"Their father was from college and his sister and a few others were my closest friends. It's time we met up and I told them all the real reason for me having to give up my children and my life with them."

Sherlock nodded, accepting her answer. He was about to ask another question but was interruptedted

"No you don't have to converse with them." she said, the familiar smile decorating her angled face.

"Reading my mind as usual I see," Sherlock muttered, chuckling slightly. His sister followed, a small laugh bubbling from her red painted lips.

"What are their names?" Sherlock asked, for no reason in particular. Enola took his hand from its position from the table and held it, palm up.

"Charles Martin and Rachel Marie. That's what their father and I named them when they were born." she said softly, lightly tracing the lines on his palms. Sherlock closed his fingers over his sister's identical ones, giving them the smallest squeeze. It was a small gesture of intimacy he had never shared with anyone other than her. He looked into her eyes

"Those were your top children names."

"Yeah," she said, a sad smile tugging her wide mouth. Her posture and demeanor changed suddenly, the bright happy woman back in place.

"So, how's the detective work going?" she asked.

The brother talked, telling stories of the many adventures he'd had since they last met, the sister listening intently. Both held each other's hands, both at comfort, at ease, at home.

Who knew Sherlock Holmes had a heart?

They stayed like that for a few hours, pulling away when John reentered. The stories were then filled with different sides, one dramatic and slightly exaggerated, and the other analytical and to the point. Finally, another young woman entered to say that Mrs Holmes requested that the adults get themselves washed up and ready for Sherlock's 36th Birthday Party.

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_3 hours earlier_

"Mary hurry up!" Molly yelled from the sofa of her apartment.

"Patience is a virtue, young one." called the pediatrician, amidst the clanking of various types of jewelry, from Molly's room.

"I won't be soon if I have to wait for you!"

"Patience is a-"

"Oh please, do shut _up_."

"You shut up!" called Mary's voice, closer than before. Molly stood up on her heels, stumbling slightly. 5 inches were a lot to get used to.

"You give me chest pains!" Molly called back, fixing up her hair one last time. _Yay awkward party. Can't wait to go. _Molly thought. She turned around when she heard heels clicking on the floor

"That doesn't make sense at- wow. Someone's _hot_." Mary smirked at Molly as the latter turned. The translucent, light blue, mid thigh dress was very figure accentuating, and Molly had a lot of figure to accentuate underneath the baggy work clothes she chose to use. The soft cotton flowed around her small, yet filled frame; the dip in the collar was almost as seductive as the tightness of it on her rear.

The light make up, gold bangles, studs, clutch and heels finished the look, making Molly very, very, very sexy indeed- if she did say so herself.

"Look at you! Bloody hell. Who knew Miss Mary Morstan could be sexy?" Molly smirked, looking at her friend, who had opted for a light green silk dress. The mint fabric draped the woman's figure naturally, accentuating all the assets she had. The extra bits of fabric loosely falling over the shoulders made it seem more conservative. Large hoops decorated Mary's ears, the same silver colour her platforms were.

"Wait- we have the same hair!" Mary cried out suddenly. It was true- both women had opted to let their hair down and in natural curls for the night. It was too much work to do anything else, anyway

"Who bloody well cares? Let's go, we're late." Molly said, dragging her best friend out the door.

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_an hour earlier_

Enola flopped down on her brother's bed, her champagne coloured wrap dress miraculously staying in one place. Her brother came out of the bathroom, scowling clad in black dress trousers and shoes, with a cobalt blue shirt, bringing out the brightness in his eyes.

"You look handsome"

"I don't care. I want to go home."

"Stop being a baby and be happy- you're thirty six and your escapades haven't killed you yet!"

"One almost did."

"Ah, yes. The pathologist John spoke about helped you didn't she? Is she coming? I'd like to meet her." Enola said, excitedly. To excitedly, and almost…nervous?

"She isn't- family function." something was tugging at the back of his mind, but Sherlock didn't know what.

"Your children- their names are Charles and Rachel, yes?"

"You wouldn't ask if you didn't know. Oh, and apparently he goes by Charlie" Sherlock nodded. There was something buried, deep in his mind. It was bugging him- something about those names.

John entered then, to tell them that guests had arrived and that it was 'show time' for Sherlock.

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Molly, Mary, Matthew and the children pulled up at the giant estate. Nola Hemmings lived here? Wow.

Of course Molly knew her last name wasn't Hemmings, she was told that by Nola herself- something about protecting her and her family since they were working with the government or something. Apparently all would be revealed at the party. Yay. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the front steps of the house, pulling out her phone to call Nola like she promised she would.

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"My friends are here!" Enola cried out, hanging up and switching off her phone. She was the odd one out of her siblings- she was the only happy one. Sherlock stood next to her, a scotch in his hand and Mycroft next to him, a gin and tonic at his lips. Both wore twin faces of boredom. Enola huffed at the two, trying to drag the sullen men to the general direction of the front door.

"Get of Enola- besides, I am pretty sure that these friends of yours won't mind you going without the family to greet them. Once they find out exactly who we are, they will be in for the shock of their lives, anyway." said Mycroft as he and his brother pulled away from their sister's grasp. Enola huffed again, but jogged of into the house.

"What do you mean shock at _both _of us. No one knows who you are." Sherlock questioned, eyebrow raised. Mycroft chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Mycroft asked casually. Sherlock scowled.

"You know exactly what I mean. You said once they find out who _we _are. No one knows who you are."

"Slip of the tongue, dear brother."

"You never have a slip of the tongue. Tell me what you know now."

"Does Sherlock want to know? I think you just don't like not knowing things."

"Stop it or I'll-"  
"What will you do Sherlock?" Mycroft sneered, peering down at his brother. Sherlock smirked.

"Well dear brother," he said, mocking Mycroft I'll tell Mummy." Mycroft's eyes widened

"You wouldn't"

"Try me." Sherlock smirked as his brother sighed in resignation.

"Well one of them do know who I am. One of Enola's 'girl' friend to be exact."

"Mycroft what are the children's' father's last name?" Sherlock asked, thoughts and facts slowly clicking into place. There was only one person outside family other than Lestrade (who was not a female) , John (who was there and definitely not a female) and Mrs Hudson (who was to old) to know both the brothers at a personal level.

"Oh I don't know, Sherlock."

"What is their name?" he demanded forcefully. Mycroft chuckled.

"It escapes me, but here, take a look at them and tell me what you deduce." the man said, reaching into his light grey suit jacket, bringing out a new photograph, dated a few months ago.

"Enola showed it to me a few days back. The father sent it to her- I thought it would come in handy." Mycroft said casually. To casually. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Don't want to see your nephew and niece Sherlock? Well I'll be of then." Mycroft taunted, pretending to put the photo back into his jacket. He was deliberately slow- Sherlock snatched it from his bony hand. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition when he saw the faces.

"Jesus." Sherlock muttered, staring at the girl and boy in the picture. The boy was a literal carbon copy of a seventeen-year-old Sherlock, just like Enola had been. It wasn't that that made him wide eyed and speechless.

Everything suddenly clicked, his whizzing mind placing everything together. Staring back at him, with the same cheeky smirk the first time the met at her school, was Rachel, or to him- a spitting younger image of Molly Hooper.

That woman would not leave him _alone_.

In his mind, there was a new 'the WOMAN' woman in town.

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"Molly, Mary! Dear Lord, it's been forever!" screamed a tall woman from the front door. Charlie couldn't see her face, it was covered in the bear hug she was giving the two smaller women in front of her.

_That's where I got my height._

Charlie laced his fingers through his sister's, the muscles relaxing ever so slightly from the tense position it was in through the whole car journey. He understood exactly how she felt- he was the only one out of everyone at this blasted party, in this blasted _city _probably.

The lady let go, moving on to their father. Rachel let go- she didn't want their mother to se her as the child she definitely wasn't. However, the small palm snaked its way around the small of Charlie's back and instinctively and protectively, he did the same, hugging her close. The posture may have been casual- but no one could have been more tensed, and scared.

Charlie eyes widened slightly as Rachel's grip tightened impossibly when the lady turned her eyes on them.

He almost choked when those bright grey eyes not unlike his turned, the grin on her face faltering as she caught sight of the two children.

Then, the tears fell.

**And that's the end of the chapter folks. Sorry it took me ****ten years to post- I have been away at a camp with no internet connection at all!**

**Review? The text box will love you for ever and ever.**

**-Ash :)**


	9. Introductions- Don't I Know You?

**Hey my dear readers! I realise that lots of you commented on how late I was on posting the las chapter and I am so sorry- but blame the fact that I was stuck at camp with absolutely no internet connection! Anyway I wrote this as fast as I could, so please try excuse any silly/ careless mistakes. I love you all! 70 reviews! I wonder if i can get it up to a 100 (*hint* *hint*)**

**anyway, I don't own Sherlock and blah blah blah**

**Enjoy:**

_Bollocks! _Sherlock screamed internally as he looked up from the photo in his hand- that's when he realised he was alone. Stupid git Mycroft left him alone, probably to murder yet another cupcake or whatever.

Stupid git.

Molly Hooper, the woman his mind wouldn't take a break from, the mousy lady who had somehow always blended in the background, the one who worked with him, _his _pathologist, was the aunt of his niece and nephew.

_At least there's there is no blood relation directly._ Sherlock took a physical step backwards, internally slapping his mind. _Where did that come from?_ The man couldn't deny it though- he certainly was very glad they weren't related, and part of him was very, very pleased she was at the party- but he hated every second of it.

Wandering over to the drinks table (he downed his drink when he saw the picture, just in case he was hallucinating) he refilled his shot glass. Staring at the bronze scotch in his hand, he decided it was time he took control again.

_Okay, let's get this over and done with. What are my _feelings _for Molly Hooper? Physically, heart rate increases, and as of late: damper palms and slight nausea. The need to impress also in play. What does this mean? Obviously it shows some type of physical _humanly mundane _attraction to her as I a suffering the same symptoms she has yet to fail to gain when she is around me. There may be something else. What though? File away for later investigations._

_Questions:_

_1. Am I definitely physically attracted by Molly Hooper?_

Sherlock ran through his memories of her, mostly the recent ones.

_Yes._

_2. Emotionally? What are my attractions emotionally?_

_Definitely not love- I haven't stooped as far as that definitely. I believe I do care about her, and strangely I feel...not bad about that, despite later consequences. File away for later. Problem- I do not care for her the way I do John, Nola or Mummy. Neither do I care the same way about Mrs Hudson, or god forbid, brother. Definitely much more._

_Conclusion:_

_I am having indescribable feelings under the category of:_

_a) lust_

_b) love_

_c) somewhere in between_

_Actions:_

_The most obvious thing to do is to hide these feelings and to start deleting them. The former has proved ineffective and has jeopardised some of my work. The latter refuses to happen. That leaves one last option:_

_I will inform Molly of my feelings, and I shall take it from there._

Sherlock glanced up from his thinking state in time to realise that he was walking towards the general direction of John, who was making small talk with some close family friend who's name Sherlock couldn't have bothered to save.

Walking over, the tall detective muttered a polite greeting to the elderly man and stood next to his sidekick. After five minutes of listening to crap about astronomy, Sherlock felt a slight nudge in his side. Looking down, he saw John, smirking slightly at him.

"You look bored."

"Aren't you becoming quite the detective," drawled Sherlock. John grinned slightly, shaking his head. He was about to reply, when his eyes turned to look at the space behind Sherlock.

"I think your sister is calling for you, birthday boy." John said, frowning slightly. Turning, Sherlock could see why- her sister was grinning from the back porch of the mansion, waving frantically. That wasn't the odd thing, there were tear streaks on her face. Instantly worried, Sherlock turned around and began walking, before catching his sister's signals and turning around.

"She wants you to."

"Why?"

"John don't be stupid- I would have already told you if I knew." Sherlock said, as he strode over to the patio. There were other people there, two children with their father, and two female friends. Inwardly, Sherlock groaned. On the outside, he smirked.

"We are going to meet Enola's children and their father."

"So why am I following?" John asked confused.

"Wait until you find out who they are."

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Molly was in a state of shock. Well she be, really, she would have cried herself if she finally got to meet her kids, but this was Enola Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was and people used to joke that the world would explode when she did ever cry.

Yet, she felt happy. It was nice to know that the 'family' of sorts were in a way united, but she couldn't help but feel angry at Nola. How could she go of like that and abandon them, then burst into tears once she meets the children she couldn't be bothered to raise? Why would she ever do that to her children, to Matty? _At least there'll be answers about this._ Molly thought.

"Come on! You've got to meet the rest of my family! Hold on, let me get my brother- ooh! You have to meet his friend to- I'm pretty sure that will answer the question about my last name. It will be easier from there, I promise." Molly tried to comprehend what Nola was saying, as the latter bounced out the glass door onto the patio, waving her arms around like a maniac. _Good old Nola- but who in hell is so famous that we would know him and not the fact that he has a sister?_

Turning to Mary, she wordlessly asked her that question, receiving a shrug. Molly turned to her nephew and niece, almost her half-children really; with the amount of work she put in raising them before and during Mia. They were huddled together, both wearing stoic masks. They looked like that when Nola hugged them; they were unmoving, silent and unemotional. It was funny- Charlie actually reminded her a lot like Sherlock.

_Arghhh- stop it Molls. Not the time to think about Sherlock bloody Holmes...and to talk to yourself for that matter. _Shaking her head, Molly shuffled towards her brother, who placed an arm around her waist.

"Crazy huh?" Matthew asked. Molly knew they could have gone on in silence, but understood that Matthew bottling up everything he had to say would bite them all in the arses later like a muzzled dog with rabies gone rogue.

"Yeah, but we'll get through it, Matty, like we always do." she muttered, smiling when she saw the corners of his mouth tilt upwards at the use of his childhood nickname.

Glancing over again at her nephew and niece (she was so worried about them), Molly once again noted how both were so stiff and rigid. She could swear, when she heard a bunch of footsteps clomping into the room, that Charlie looked exactly like...

Pulling her eyes away, Molly looked up at the new inhabitants in the room. Her eyes went wide as a she started a chorus of name-calling

"Sherlock?"

"Molly?" whoa...was that...

"John?"

"_John?"_ John tore his eyes away from Molly, eyes widening further when he saw the caller

"_Mary?"_

"Sherlock _Holmes_?" asked Matty, confused and very, well, excluded.

"Woah, he's our uncle?" Charlie broke in

"I told you!" came in his sister

"_You?_" John almost yelled when he saw Rachel, who feigned surprise

"YOU!" she called out pointing at the blonde man's face

"Rachel, how do you-" Molly started, but was blocked out by another bout of name calling and...reunions?

Despite all the chaos, Molly was embarrassed to say that she spent most of her time staring at Sherlock. NOT because he was looking great or anything (but he did look damn sexy in the dress attire he was in, and the way his hair was falling over his eyes? Mr. Universe had absolutely no sex appeal compared to that whatsoever) it was the bloody fact that he was bloody _there _in the first place.

Then she remembered. It was Enola's brother's birthday. It was Sherlock's birthday to.

Holy.

Fuck

_Oh dear Lord save me now! Sherlock Holmes' sister shagged my brother._

There was one moment when Sherlock turned to and caught her gaze, for about three seconds (more like light years) before the chaos abruptly settled. Now it was just a staring contest between everyone.

"Why don't we all take a seat?" asked Nola, as calm as possible. Molly watched as the children made a beeline for a two-seater sofa, plopping down and taking up as much space as possible. Mary and John were trying to decide on seats, obviously trying to be near one another but no to close to the point they looked needy or something. In the end, they settled on two soft chairs across each other. Nola had taken a seat on a small armchair, next to John and Mary.

Sherlock was seated on the seat next to John, and was staring straight ahead. Rachel was staring keenly at him, for a reason unknown to Moly. With two more chairs left in the area, next to each other, next to Mary, Molly dragged her confused brother over to one and sat herself down to the one next to Mary, not realising until it was to late that she would be spending the rest of the evening distracted by a certain detective.

_What did I do in my past life to receive this torture?_

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Enola sat, at the head of the group, gulping in as much air as possible. She was going to have to put on a brave face for this, for herself. Taking in a deep breath, she started

"Okay, by the looks of it, you lot know each other, personally." Enola stated, glaring at her brother as he snorted into his hand muttering _obviously_ into his fist "anyway, for those of you who don't know or aren't my lovely brother, less just start the introductions, shall we?

"Okay, um, guys, this is John Watson, a friend of my brothers and an ex-army doctor."

"Yeah we know" Mary muttered, receiving a glare from Enola.

"Moving on, you all probably know that Sherlock Holmes is my brother and that I am a Holmes member."

"Yeah, you're gonna have to explain that little detail to us." Mary interrupted again

"Shut up Mary." Molly muttered softly, elbowing her friend discreetly. Enola huffed before moving on "These are, well, um, uh-" she stuttered, not really knowing what to say. The tension in the air thickened slightly more in the deafening silence that followed. Taking a drowning gulp of air, Enola spoke again

"I shouldn't really be doing this, since I barely know you two, which I really do, but Sherlock and John, these are my…my son and daughter- Rachel Marie and Charles." Enola's voice caught in her throat and she almost let out a sob as her children spoke up for the second time that night. This time however, she heard them loud and clear.

"Charlie is just fine, really. I don't do formal very well." Charles- no Charlie said with a sheepish grin. His looks were almost all from her, but his voice and attitude almost mirrored his father's.

"Just Rachel, or Rache will do. Anything but Marie, or any short, or long form of the name." the Rachel said, her tone confident and clear. She was kicked slightly by her brother, whom she elbowed back, before she uttered a forced "_Please_." Enola wanted to laugh- her looks were a spitting image of a short female version of her father (as in his sister, Molly) but her attitude, tone, personality- they were literal carbon copies of her stubborn brother. It was almost hilarious how cliché this whole drama was.

The woman nodded slightly, muttering the children's names to herself, before moving on with the introductions.

"This- this is Matthew Hooper, an old, old friend from college and the father of the children." Enola said refusing to look anyone in the eye at this point. She could almost imagine everyone's facial expressions. Mary's smugness; Molly, ever the helping hand and do-gooder would be sympathetic or disgusted; Matthew's uneasiness; her children's stoic masks; her brother's slight amusement; and John's confused look. She knew that's what they would look like- what else could it be?

A hand placed itself on her shoulder, followed by another one on her wrist. Turning to her right, she was greeted with the relieving sight of Molly and Mary, her best friends during college, wearing soft smiles on their faces. She almost hugged them when Molly turned and spoke up

"Hi, I know for a fact that all of you know me, some definitely a lot more than others, but in a way not, but actually, I mean- never mind, I'm rambling again, but you all know I do that all the time. Anyway I'm Molly Hooper, Matthew is my brother, John, and Charlie and Rachel, whom you've apparently met before, are my godchildren-slash-niece and nephew. Matty, Sherlock Holmes IS the detective from the telly, and is the one I told you who uses my lab." Molly was about to continue, when Matt, who was silent this whole time, interrupted

"The git?" he asked. Molly answered surprised

"Who is?" Molly asked, frowning. Matthew sighed.

"Him" he said, pointing to Sherlock "the man who works with you."

"I've never called him that." Molly said still frowning, hints of a blush forming on her already blushed cheeks.

"Yes, but I think anyone can tell he is one. Isn't he?" Matt asked, directing his question at John.

"The biggest." The veteran answered, earning a murderous glare from the detective. Matthew on the other hand, received a punch and a hiss about language in front of children from his sister.

"Anyway," Molly continued, "John Watson is Sherlock's blogger and sidekick, in a way, and before you ask and embarrass yourself, no they aren't together, yes they are flatmates, no nothing more than flatmates." Everyone seemed pleased enough with this.

Enola watched through a haze as Mary introduced herself. She'd missed these people so much- her two best friends and her…well…it was complicated, but still! And her children- where could she start? They were intelligent, beautiful, healthy and talented young minds, and it made her nauseated to know that she had missed out on so many memories, events, everything in their lives for the past twelve years. She would never forgive herself for giving up her beautiful children. Never.

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Matthew spent most of his time staring at the mother of his two eldest children. It was hard not to, twelve years had barely affected the gorgeous woman. But it was still just the tiniest bit difficult to wrap his head around the fact that she the sister of one of the most famous and mysterious people in the whole of Britain.

After five minutes of the awkward silence that had befallen the room when Mary finished introducing herself, Matthew decided to look around. He was pleased to see that his children had gained some energy and where whispering slightly to one another, while Rachel drew in her prized sketchbook. That thing followed her everywhere. Looking across, he found that Enola was watching the intently, taking note of every detail. The two previously occupied chairs on either side of her were empty- where had Mary and John gone? It didn't matter; Mary could take care of herself anyday, anytime, anywhere.

His eyes trained on his sister, who was playing with the hem of her dress, sometimes one of the bangles on her hand. He noted that she was humming slightly. She was refusing to look up and normally that was the only place she would look when she was feeling uncomfortable. Suddenly, she did, and all she did was stare across at the detective bloke, who was staring right back at her. An unconscious wave of protectiveness washed over him, but he pushed it away- he had to get down to business, and get over the reason he was here.

Getting up, he made his way to Enola

"May the kids and I speak to you in private please?" Enola looked up, startled, before nodding her head and standing up, brushing sown her dress.

"Kids, come on, we want to talk to you." Matthew called out.

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Molly snapped out of the gaze when her brother shouted out. That disappointed Sherlock. His gaze didn't waver the slightest, but he still caught sight of the boy walking behind Molly's chair and to his father. The girl came next, but stopped next to the chair and poked Molly in the arm. Molly turned, and the girl squatted down, before kneeling and muttered a few things to her. The pathologist the proceeded to wrap her arms around the girl and subtly ran her palms up and down her mid back.

_Subtle way of soothing. The girl is scared, but refuses to show it. She's a strong one. Only confides in Molly or her brother, but the latter is unavailable and she doesn't want to create a scene._

That, in a way, appealed to Sherlock. It was nice to know that his niece was an emotional wreck. If he did say so himself, she was a lot like him, just not as good.

The girl walked away, along with her brother, father and biological mother, to start on their unlikely reunion.

Then he realised that him and Molly were alone, together.

Alone.

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"So…" Mary said, leaning backwards against a wall. John and her were in a random room, not far away from the one they were just in.

"So…" John mimicked, equally unsure about the situation.

"Weird second date huh?"

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" both again fell silent, allowing the awkwardness to sink in.

"Look," John stated, much to Mary's delight "this is wrong, completely wrong. How about we start over again, redo the second date thing at least." Mary's heart fluttered- the weren't doomed after all!

"Yes, let's- how about, after all this crap is over, I take you out for a movie, and I am paying this time. You better not try pulling the whole sexist 'men pay' shit on me."

"Of course." John chuckled "So that will count as the second date then?"

"I dunno…I mean, if we skip over to the third date, well, we all know what happens then." Mary smirked, gaining confidence and sauntering over to John.

"Well it doesn't really make sense, seeing as we barely got past first base." Mary chuckled slightly at the comment "I though we already did, Mr. Watson."

"Did we? Oh yes, we did."

"Well, John, I don't remember it- help me refresh my memory?" Mary almost pinched herself- when in hell had she turned into someone like, like that? The flustered woman was about to pull away and apologise, when John leaned forwards and planted a firm kiss on her.

Immediately returning the kiss, Mary leaned in, one hand on the man's chest, the other weaving itself around his collar, playing with the strands of hair at the base of his head. John's arms were now placed on her hips, effortlessly bringing her body closer to his.

Mary almost fell over when she felt John's tongue swipe at the slit between her lips. Opening her mouth, she granted him access.

Base Two: check, check and check

Allowing him access, Mary felt John's tongue tickle her's as it explored the insides of her mouth. Deciding it was time to fight back, Mary leaned in even more and pressed John against the wall. This backfired, when his reflexes got the better of her- he immediately turned them around and soon her back was pancaked firmly against the wall. She still fought for dominance however and won. After a few minutes of intense snogging, the couple finally broke apart for much needed oxygen.

"Not exactly how I remembered it," she panted, planting a chaste kiss on John's lips "but I think I can live with this." John nodded

"Base Two: check." Mary chuckled slightly.

"My sentiments exactly, Dr."

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_Mary I swear to GOD you will be seriously injured when you return_ Molly seethed internally. How could her best friend live her alone with Sherlock sodding Holmes?

Molly really couldn't understand why the detective was staring so intently at her. There was nothing to deduce really- this time she dressed up for herself. So why? She wasn't the one with the sexy bed head hair, or the annoyingly luminous eyes, the Greek-god chiseled bone structure, or the amazingly flawless alabaster skin, or the long, graceful neck, or the toned muscles that were almost ripping his shirt in two, or the….

_Oh my god- SHUT UP!_

The internal outburst startled Molly slightly and caused her to look up at Sherlock who was still staring at her with that _infuriating, so very, very sexy_ stare.

_Great now you are scaring yourself._

At that point, Molly realised something else

_And you talk to yourself. First sign of insanity right?_

Snapping herself out of it, Molly was greeted by the sight of a dull silver belt buckle.

_Fuck. Don't look down. Don't look down._

Molly's eyes strayed just slightly lower- what brand was that buckle? She could get one for Matthew, or Charlie.

_For Christ sakes I said don't look the sodding hell DOWN!_

Her eyes almost flying upwards, Molly was welcomed by a slightly smirking Sherlock, who had his long spidery palm held out to her.

"I'm sorry- did you say something?" Molly asked. _Yes, I was arguing with myself and then I almost looked down at your crotch._

Sherlock smirked wider, as if he had read her mind- which was impossible. Right?

Right.

"I was saying, it is nice weather, for once outside, and there are certain important topics related directly to the both of us that I would like to discuss, preferably alone, as in, in private, away from anyway who may have the urge to eavesdrop. According to social 'laws', I believe that the best thing to propose is ti go for a walk with me. So Molly: would you care to join me for a walk?" Sherlock said, impossibly in one breath, once again flourishing his palm out to her.

Molly smiled at the Sherlock. It was adorable when he tried something like this- the social awkwardness of it all made it all the more charming.

"Of course- any place you have in mind?"

"Not necessarily, but now that you mention it, I do have someplace in mind. Don't worry, it's on the compound."

Molly could swear Sherlock smiled- not smirked- when she nodded and took his chapped hands. She always imagined Sherlock to have really soft woman fingers, but apparently not.

_WOW, even his hand texture is manly Molly- to bad he's asexual. Either that, or he really doesn't like you._

_Shut._

_Up._

Once again smiling, Molly followed alongside Sherlock as he lead them out onto the gardens, neither realising that she had somehow laced her fingers through his.

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**Whew so that was the end of that- tell me what you think? Pretty please with a cherry on top? And please feel free to review or P.M me any ideas you may have for this or any other story that you think I can incorporate or use- I promise shout outs!**

**Review?**

**-Ash :)**


	10. Confessions of a Holmes

**Wow Chapter 10! Double Digits! Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far, her are shout outs!**

**_Rocking the Redhead_: Thank you! I wasn't sure if it would make her sound stupid, but apparently not- Whew! Thank you- hope you like this one.**

**lostmypen120: yes, yes it is. I see it to, right there on the horizon. Hope you like this update ;)**

**_sheipweir always:_ Thank you so much! It's nice to know that people like reading my story. There've been so many drafts where I talk to much about one character and forget to develop other scenes. Wow really? Great! People love my original creations! Woo! Hope you enjoy this next chapter as well.**

**_magicstrikes:_ I had this scary feeling when I posted that chapter when I remembered the belt buckle. It wasn't meant to be in, since I though it'd be to racy for a T fic, but I couldn't let it go and looks like I didn't make a mistake! You really like John and Mary? Thanks. With all the angst with Sherlolly, I needed some fluff to keep readers, well, not bored! Hope you like the next chapter!**

**_MollyHooperRules:_ I like the pen name! Thanks for the review :))**

**_CompaniontoMisterHolmes:_ Nice name ;) who wouldn't want to be? Thank you for your support! :D**

**_patemalah121:_ Thank you- my heart stop when you wrote 'artificial' and I let out a giant exhale when you said 'it turned out perfect'. Thank you so much for the support!**

**_EmpraceofVerace:_ Yupe- and I'm pretty sure he'll realise soon enough ;) About Enola? Well we'll have to see- I hop this next chapter gives people insight on her. Hopefully she doesn't rub the completely wrong way ;)**

**Guest: Of course-and I just did!**

**_Yukkin_: Yes. Go murder another cupcake Mycroft. Dude, I want a cupcake now ;D About the typos- excuse me!**

**_travellady77_: thank you! Tell you the truth? I can't wait either! ;)**

**_Icebreakerssour67:_ Awww….it's okay- here's another chapter, just for you! Well here we find out what happens on the walk, so hope you're happy :D Thank you- lot of pressure knowing I'm you 'first' ;) and it's nice to know I did a good job! :D**

**Guest: Here is more, oh brilliant reviewer, here is more!**

**_Lucy36:_ Hey! Reviewing o the site? Yeah camp….ugh my back was sore for days! Yes, you see, I didn't want them to suffer from aching muscles like I did, so I gave 'em more room ;) Whoops, didn't catch that- yes, he is The Sherlock Holmes, the world's only Consulting Detective on a case, Stubborn Food-and-Mycroft-hating Sexy Manchild when he has none. Everybody loves him. Except Anderson and Donovan. But they don't count. And yes, we find out, what happens this chapter! Thank you for all the support you give me with each update- you're the best! :D**

**To those who reviewed the other chapters: thank you so much for the continued support! Even to all you floaters out there who just read, thank you to!**

**I don't own Sherlock. But I own Mary (my version)Matt, Mia, Enola, Micah, Rachel and Charlie- with whom I do whatever the hell I want! *maniacal laughter***

**Anyway, CHAPTER:**

_Oh dear lord,_ Rachel internally groaned_ first meeting with the birth mom and the first actual conversation I will have is with the father…in some annoyingly emotional place for added effect._

The siblings and their parents were currently standing in a small secluded garden of sorts. A lone tyre swing swung backwards and forwards on a tree as a slight breeze sighed in the night air. Looking up at the adults, he rolled her eyes. _Can't we just leave them be so that _they _can snog or something?_

Inwardly, she felt guilty- Enola may be her mother, but Mum was her _mother- _and Dad would never do that to her.

"So what are we talking about- my feet hurt." She said bluntly. Thankfully, the woman gestured them to sit down on a wooden picnic table that had apparently been directly behind her the whole time.

Introductions restarted- but in more detail. Rachel didn't want nor have to listen- she knew everything about her brother, and Enola? The disguised earth-soiled nails were a sign of obvious like for gardening AND style, the slight bump on the middle finger on her right hand meant that she was right handed, and leaned her pen against her middle finger as she wrote- and by the size of it, for a woman her age, she enjoyed either drawing or writing, yet the lack of ink or pencil marks either meant that she was a neat freak (most artists aren't really) or she was almost certainly the latter.

Cool: her mother was a amteur stylish gardener novelist.

That stupid tyre swing was directly in the middle of her view point; behind and to the right of her brother, who was sitting across her, looking at his thumbs- a sign of his nervousness. The breeze was still moving the swing, but it was barely detectable against her skin- it was almost as if a phantom was pushing on it.

The idea clicked in her mind. Quietly scanning the table and finding no one paying any real attention to her, Enola was talking to Charlie about cricket, Rachel snuck her hand into her pocket and pulled out her Artline pen and black sketchbook.

Flipping through the front page of a graffiti style drawing of her name and other random drawings from fast humanoid sketches to detailed sceneries or plants, Rachel began to draw.

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Molly had to walk short, fast strides to keep up with the detective's long strides in her heels. The night sky was beautiful; away from the light pollution of the city, the stars twinkled like lone diamonds freely dancing in the sky. _It's almost romantic,_ Molly decided as she looked down at their loosely, yet still linked arms, Sherlock's alabaster skin luminous in the starlight. Molly sighed, chiding herself over such a stupid thought, attracting the concerned attention of her partner.

With a slightly raised eyebrow, Molly caught Sherlock staring at her, a slight expression of concern and curiosity flashing across the pale mask. Not wanting to look him in the eye, she glanced up at the waxing crescent moon above.

She was lead down the path, until it forked into three lanes. From the one furthest to the left, a small-enclosed garden sprung into view. She caught sight of her brother and his almost family conversing. She looked down on them, before glancing up at Sherlock.

"You care about her a lot." Molly almost hit herself- the words came out without her consent. She was about to apologise when the man cut her off.

"What brought you to that conclusion?" he asked, surprising Molly with the plain curiosity in his voice.

"It's the way you look at her," she started. A raised eyebrow urged her to elaborate. "I can't explain it- it's just your expression. Matthew has the same one for me if he thinks I'm in trouble, or with a guy he doesn't like…really any guy in general. But you have the same one, just a lot more conserved. You worry for her." Molly could swear that Sherlock's lips twitched upwards slightly at the comment. Silently, Molly resumed looking down at them. Suddenly, Rachel turned from her hunched position to look directly at the couple.

Rachel gave a small wave. Molly returned the gesture with a smile, before looking up at Sherlock. His default expression was again in play as he gracefully swept them away down the middle turn.

"Where are we going exactly?"

"The only place in this entire house that hasn't annoyed me once."

"Oh, okay."

"Just ask what you have to ask Molly."

"Not to sound dumb, but why do we have to go so far away for you to tell me something?" Sherlock sighed.

"You'll see Molly, you'll see."

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John sat at the lounge everyone was just at a few minutes ago, this time alone save for the company of one very thoroughly snogged Mary Morstan. He wondered why everyone had gone, but not really a top priority at the moment.

They were seated next to each other, Mary leaning against his chest with his left arm around her body.

"Why were you so mean to Enola earlier?" John asked. He immediately regretted it when he felt the woman shift away from him slightly, sighing.

"It's very complicated. We- Nola, Molly, and I- were best friends in college, and Molly had the hottest brother on campus and all that. Nola was always the looker in our group, so naturally, Matt went for her. It really pissed me off, but I was okay with it, as long as he was happy. I didn't want him hurt- we were close friends since childhood, so, you know. Anyway, on graduation night, Nola got pregnant, and she wanted to keep him. Matthew was already leading an okay life with a good job, so he didn't mind caring for the child. Then two years later Rachel came into the world.

"Everything was just fine and dandy, until Enola just upped and left. It was a horrible time- Matthew was depressed, blamed it on himself and the kids, and, well, it wasn't okay. I never forgave her. Then Mia came into her life and helped jump start his recovery. They got married a while after and had Micah, who you also may have met at the morgue once or twice."

John nodded, swelling in pride. It was nice to know he was trusted enough to know the story from her. It was obvious that certain parts were censored, but still. It was something.

"I don't know. We were the best of friends- the history is just too much to erase."

Again nodding, John eased them back into lighter topics of char, namely where the hell everyone else was.

It was nice, and comfortable, he decided. Something he definitely wanted to do more often, and for a long time.

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Sherlock smirked as he saw Molly's eyes widen in surprise. It probably was hard to imagine any version of Sherlock Holmes, young or old, owning, let alone using a giant play pirate ship, which was conveniently built next to a tree with painted bees decorating its thick, dark trunk.

He watched her as she chuckled slightly muttering words like _adorable _or _Sherlock you were so cute!_ but forced himself to stay on the non angry side of things. It wasn't hard- he quite liked her laugh.

"Okay Sherlock, what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, a small playful smile on her lips. He strode over to her, sat himself on the starboard of his ship, allowing his legs to rest against the inside of the ship. Molly did the same, facing outwards. Turning her head, she unconsciously brushed her left elbow against his left forearm, sending unwanted pricks up his arms. Ignoring the feeling, he started.

"Molly, we have known each other for quite some time now, and you have helped me, in many ways, and for that I am thankful. I also know of your…infatuation for me."

"Sherlock where are you going with this?" the pathologist asked, a blush spreading on her face.

"I believe that I may have the same feelings for you, so obviously the logical thing to do is-is to explore the possibilities this situation holds for us and-"

"What?" Molly asked. Sherlock looked at her incredulously.

"You can't not understand what I-"

"Of course I understand Sherlock. I'm not stupid, despite your contrary beliefs. I understand perfectly." She seethed, surprising Sherlock with her sudden hostility.

_What the hell is wrong with her? Menstruation? No, that ended three days back. What is wrong with her?_

_Women._

"If you do understand you wouldn't be-"

"No Sherlock- I talk, you _listen_. I am _not_ your human lab rat Sherlock. You cannot do this to me. I understand that you probably don't know how much you toy around with my emotions, maybe sometimes you do, but I am NOT going to be your social experiment. And you know that I fancy you- you sodding know. So why can't you get it through that big head of yours that you don't do that to people?" Her outburst was cut of by a beep in her phone. Checking her text, she sighed and ran her hand through her curls.

Her curls looked very soft, and bouncy, If he reached out, he could feel it and how…

_Not the time to wonder about the texture of Molly Hooper's hair._

"Look Sherlock, we _just _got out of a fight, and- and I don't want to get into another one. I don't know about you, but you are very close to me, and with all the crap with our families- look I just don't want to fight okay? I'll forget this ever happened, and we can go back to how it always is."

With that, Molly hopped down from her perch and began walking away.

"I'm going back to the lounge area we were just at. Care to join?" she asked lightly.

He gave no response, and heard her walking away, her footsteps sounding dejected.

_How can she think that I'm not telling the truth?_ Thinking more about it, Sherlock saw the reason in her thinking, and her later words. He really did string her along this whole time. It was a wonder she stuck around for so long. He had to make things right- he wanted Molly. His Molly.

And when Sherlock Holmes set his mind on something, he bloody well got it.

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"I'm sorry, repeat that?" Rachel asked, spinning around. It was stupid how everyone was so unobservant. Did they really just miss Sherlock and Molly? _What were they doing together? OHMYGOD are they together? Please be together, please be together!_

"Tell me about yourself." Enola asked patiently, her voice holding a hint of disappointment and dejection.

"Oh, well, I'm fourteen and, well, I like art and science. I want to be a pathologist when I'm old enough. A forensics one of course."

"Wow, just like your aunt. Art huh? I like writing. Can I see your drawing?"

Well she wasn't as subtle as she thought.

"Yeah, sure." She muttered, handing over her sketchbook.

She watched as Enola flicked through it, landing on the last drawing in the book; one of a garden with a lone tire swing pushed by a floating humanoid wind-like creature.

"Beautiful detail- this is a drawing of that tyre back there right? Amazing- you have talent." Enola said, smiling as she handed the book back.

"Thanks, uh, um-"

"Call me Enola, Rachel. You too Charlie."

"Well then, thank you Enola."

Enola smiled.

"Why did you leave?" Charlie asked suddenly. Rachel looked to her brother, who was obviously aware of the awkwardness he had caused and silently thanked him. That was the explanation she was waiting for all night.

Matthew checked his watch.

"Wow, it's almost midnight. I have work tomorrow- I think it's best that we get going."

"No, wait. They deserve to know, and you as well." Enola took a deep breath and started.

"As you know I am a Holmes. My family is very involved with the British Government as Molly would know- Mycroft, I'm sure you haven't met him yet, took over my late father's job and as you know Sherlock occasionally helps with a few cases. My father, well, he was a secretive man. WIth us, his children I mean, he was a drill sergeant- we were never allowed to speak of his work. We never really knew what he did until Mycroft took over, and even then only he has all the secrets.

"Father made many, many enemies during his time- many of which targeted the family rather than him. When we were sent to college and school, we were given false names that became second nature to us. Mycroft and Sherlock lost them after awhile- they were never a target, really. I was always the apple of Father's eye- and he wasn't a subtle man. I was a giant target. The name Hemmings was adopted when I went to college.

"When I was pregnant with Charlie, I was scared, but I couldn't wait for my baby to come into the world. Kids, I love you both so much, and having you were the best experiences of my life. However, Father wasn't happy. For one thing, it tainted the family name- getting wedlock pregnancies were never a big thing for him. I cut off all communications from him, until Rachel's first birthday.

"I saw him that day. He came to tell me that I had to leave- a dangerous rival had found out about the two of you and was already planning assassinations and what-not. I had to go- I couldn't have you dead. But I was selfish and I couldn't go. Remember that fire in the apartment next door to ours when Charlie had just turned four? It wasn't an accident- it was carelessness on a murder plot. There was a mixup on whether we lived in 3C or 3B. I knew I had to leave, so I planned. Three months later, I told Matt that I was going for a night out, and I left for Italy, where I met Father and flew home, taking back my last name.

"It was so very hard. I was sent files on report cards, competitions, photos, etcetera and I watched the two of you grow up into the amazing people you are now. It was bittersweet when I saw the photos of you wedding day Matt, but it was for the best, I know. Father died a few months later. Mycroft took his post and cleaned out the messes our father had made in his career.

"For a thirty year old, My made very strong allies with previously ferocious enemies. I was free to go back to you, but by then about three years had passed since your wedding, five from when I left, and Charlie and Rachel were about nine and seven. That, and your wife was pregnant.

"You were a lovely family- who was I to intrude? Then I found out that Sherlock had gotten himself out off drugs and was forced to cooperate with the Yard. He started visiting St. Barts for the bodies and what not; naturally I found out he had met Molly. It was as if the fates had pushed everything together. But again, I was scared.

"When Sherlock faked his death, he visited me before leaving- he told me how Molly had helped him and I decided that your family had done so much for us, more than we deserve. I finally saw how weak I was, but I only took action three years later, when he came back, because I was to scared. And here we are now."

Silence befell the group. The tension rose, when Charlie got out of his seat and walked over to Enola. He looked over to Rachel and silently called her over. She obliged.

Leaning down, she wrapped her hands around Enola, feeling her brother do the same.

"Thank you for coming back," he softly said.

"Just don't leave again." Rachel added. Enola smiled as tears streamed down her face; she hugged them tightly, as if trying to replace the twelve years of her absence in that one embrace. In a way, she wanted to do that.

As the group walked back to the lounge, the air definitely lighter from the lack of dark secrets, Rachel couldn't help but ask.

"Giving birth to us was the best experiences of your life right?"

Enola looked down to her left, looking at Rachel "Yes it was. Why?"

"Just to clarify- giving birth to me was definitely better than Charlie right?"

"Well, it was definitely more painful."

"HA! I told you you were a chubby baby!" Charlie called out from Enola's right hand side. Rachel instantly fumed and proceeded to swerve around Enola, to get a good target for her fists on her Charlie's back. The boy broke into a sprint, Rachel following after, surprisingly quick in her dress and boots.

Matthew and Enola looked at each other before chuckling quietly. They placed their arms around each other's waists and walked back in companionable silence.

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Enola saw what had distracted her daughter. _What were Sherlock and Molly doing? They couldn't be...no. Sherlock was _her _brother. _She'd just been reunited with her children, and she would need Sherlock as her moral support long the way; that wouldn't happen if he fell in love with Molly. And she was a Hooper. It was plainly obvious that Hooper-HOlmes relationships never worked out. He couldn't get hurt. Her life was perfect again.

No one would taint it.

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Molly was silent the rest of the night. Mary could see right through it and pestered her for answers. Finally giving in, Molly told her everything.

"Don't mention it to anyone okay? Now tell me- where did you and John go of to hmm?"

"Oh my god- you will never believe what happened."

Neither woman realised that a teenager was eavesdropping unashamedly behind them.

_So that's what happened. Aunt Molly- it's obvious he fancies you! Christ, does everyone have to be so clueless?_

She tried sitting in the sidelines, but it was time for Rachel to get her hands dirty, whether they liked it or not.

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"Goodbye Sherlock. Please don't wait for one of our birthdays to visit again. I miss you." Alia told her youngest son as she kissed the top of his curls. Mycroft smirked in the background.

"Until I clean up another one of your messes brother." He said

"Go have more cake Mycroft. I can see you sweating for another piece." Sherlock retorted as he hugged his sister, kissing her on the cheek.

"Take care Enola- text if anything." He whispered to her, feeling her hold him tighter.

"I know- I will Sherlock."

The car ride home was silent. One man sat, grinning into his palm and the other sullenly scowling at the leatherback of the seat in front of him.

221B was bustling with slight noise as the men shed their coats on the rack and kicked their shoes aside.

"So Molly left in a silentish mood. What did you do?"

"Apparently something wrong that will be corrected soon enough." That's all John got out on that matter.

Not that the doctor cared. His night was spent with many, many dreams of a certain, not very innocent category of an apparently not very innocent pediatrician.

**Thank you everyone for following me this far- without you I wouldn't have bothered writing this story past its first chapter! PLease, please, please review! I love them so very, very, much and they give me a boost in my not very high self esteem. That and the review box looks boring when it's empty.**

**See you next update!**

**Review?**

**-Ash :)**


	11. Some More Morgue Drama

**Yay! Chapter 11! I will not bore you with my ranting any more.**

**I want to thank everybody who has reviewed, so thank you to:**

**ukulelegal: Thank you! Yeah, I realised that- I promise that the next dew will have loads more of everyone's favourite consulting detective!**

**MorbidbyDefault: If I had Rachel on my team (which she is) I wouldn't worry much about Enola...or should I?**

**Random Reviewer: Thank you! Wow, never thought I'd meet another Sherlock ****Holmes nerd like me! I love his books and I myself am very picky about the fics I read, so it's nice to know that you liked it!**

**avatardsherlockian: Thank you- don't worry, he's Sherlock Holmes. He'll find a way to set things straight.**

**patemalah21: thanks- I was trying to at least keep Sherlock's interests as original as possible, since I've already shoved a Cupid's arrow up his arse, the poor man. But yeah! Yaay, I was hoping that scene wouldn't play out as fake, because I've never experienced something like that myself. The sibling's relationship is one I have with my best friend, since I have no siblings, so I know it may seem a little to good to be true :)**

**EmpressofVerace: Don't worry, Molly will come to her senses. The endgame IS sherlolly :D**

**magicstrikes: Thank you, and that line? Something I think every girl out there wishes someone would say about them. ;)**

**lostmypen120: Yeah, I wouldn't think Molly would have fallen straight into his arms like that. I was just hoping the story wouldn't have dragged and bored everyone!**

**Rocking the Redhead: Thank you for the review- and don't worry, Sherlock will get exactly what we all want him to very soon :D**

**Sherlock no own I**

**Here we go:**

The morgue was insistently silent when the chaos that the murders usually brought in was absent. It was absolutely dull compared to the confessions and drama that occurred on that party three nights ago. For the first time in a week, she was having a slow day, and Molly was enjoying every second of it. She was comfortably humming to herself with her earbuds in her ears and a novel perched in her hands.

She was getting to the good part when Sherlock strode in, alone. Silently, he swept over to his microscope, randomly grabbing a petri dish and examining it through the lens. Sighing, she took off the buds and replaced them and her phone into her bag, before placing her book closed on the table.

Hopping off the stool she left the morgue.

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"Morning."

Mary glanced up from writing a report on yet another child with the sniffles to be gifted with the sight of a certain Dr. Watson. To top it off, he had coffee.

"OH my gods, YES." she moaned, grabbing the steaming cup and taking a scalding gulp from it. "Morning!" she added after a satisfied sigh from the bittersweet caffeine.

She pulled John down into a kiss, tasting the coffee on his lips. It was meant to be a small, morning kiss, but it intensified, very fast.

John's hands had made it to her hips and her's messing up his blonde hair when the door burst open and close. Mary instantly pulled away, groaning into John's chest.

"Please, please, _please_ don't let that be a patient, _please_." She moaned. She felt vibrations coming from his chest and pulled away, whacking him on the left pectoral.

That was hard.

"Ow. Why are you so hard?" she asked pulling her hand away, rubbing it. John raised his eyebrows.

"No, I didn't mean it _that_ way, you weirdo."

John laughed, and rubbed Mary's palm. It felt very good.

It felt very, _very_ good when he planted a small kiss on it.

"Aren't you a gentleman." She said playfully

"Well, it's the main way to get a girl." John muttered into her ear as he spun her and pinned her against the wall. She leaned forward and pushed her whole body against his, feeling _every_ part. She planted her lips on his and slid her tongue through, poking at his tongue, before sliding back out and pulling away. His surprise caused John to loosen his grip, allowing Mary to effortlessly slip away and under his body.

"No doing the naughty in a medical office sick children come to." She said casually as she slid into her seat. "But you are welcome to stay." Mary pressed the button on the intercom. "Mrs. Leary, you can send in the next patient." She said, smirking as John groaned, slumping onto the visitor's couch, a defeated expression on his flushed face.

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Molly was grinning slightly as she walked into the morgue, two cups of coffee in her hands. The visit to Mary was a short one- it consisted of opening the door, seeing her snog John for about a second and then shutting the door and walking away, trying to hide the embarrassed flush on her face. Since her best friend was, um, occupied, Molly was unfortunately alone in this.

She took a sip from her coffee- black (she hated milky drinks) with three sugars (she needed the energy, just in case) before sliding over to Sherlock as usual. The man in question glanced up at her, then the cup, then back to the microscope. His fingers grabbed at the Styrofoam, but he made no move to drink from it.

Shrugging, Molly made her way to her desk, filling up paperwork and other boring duties. After a few minutes of silence, Molly was fairly certain she was being watched. Unconsciously, she turned around, only to be greeted by Sherlock's piercing stare. _How long has he been doing that?_

Keeping a cheerful face Molly asked "Anything the problem Sherlock?"

He continued staring at her for a while longer before saying something, very softly.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked. Sherlock repeated, but again it was too soft. _What is wrong with him?_ She got out of her seat and walked over to the table he was seated at.

"Ah, good, I've got you here."

"What? Sherlock, if you wanted me to come over you need onlyask."

"Yes well, if I did, you would have gotten nervous and flustered and it would be impossible for me to tell you anything."

"No it wouldn't!"

"Yes, it would have Molly."

"NO it _wouldn't ha-"_

"Is there really a point in arguing with me? No."

Molly huffed slightly, trying to suppress her smile. He was irritating, but it was quite amusing at the same time. _Damn him_

"Why did you bring me coffee?" Molly stared at Sherlock, slightly shocked at the random question.

"What do you mean? I always bring you coffee."

"Yes, but, I didn't ask you."

"Oh, did you not want it? I'm sorr-"

"NO, no, not that. Why do you bring me coffee even though I don't ask?"

"Because it's a nice thing to do Sherlock, and it well- never mind, it's nothing."

"What were you going to say Molly?" Sherlock asked softly, his expression softening. She was going to argue, but the look on his face told her it would be a waste of breath.

"It makes me feel useful." This time it was Sherlock's turn to be surprised

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know Sherlock. It's just that, well, you're so brilliant and everything, it's bloody easy to feel quite dumb around you, especially so when you are sweet talking me so that you can…"Molly's voice trailed as an expression of guilt took over her features. A hand flew up to her lips.

"Jesus, Sherlock, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Yes, you did." Sherlock's expression had hardened to a cold, handsome statue.

"Is that all you think of yourself? Is that what you believe I think of you?" Molly tried to argue, but was effectively cut off.

"Don't bother answering- it's clear you do. Why would you ever believe something like that? Molly, after everything I said and trusted you with- how could you be so_ stupid_?" Molly watched as Sherlock slid off his stool and walked straight in front of Molly. Again, his mask softened.

"That's why you thought what I was proposing was merely an experiment." He said, eyes searching her face for clues.

"Sherlock, not this again- I don't care what you say. I can't be manipulated this far to get into a fake relationship for you, no matter what you 'need' the answers for." She exclaimed quietly, turning to face away from the detective- he was NOT going to see her cry.

"Again, I'm going to pretend this never happened, and you can delete the memory. You can go back to being you and I can go back to helping you with whatever you need. From bodies to coffee, whatever the hell you want." She had almost reached her desk when she was spun around. Sherlock gripped her into place, not allowing her to do as much as squirm.

She almost gasped when she saw the emotion in his eyes, swirling around and switching colours; storms of grey, waves of blue and earthquakes of greens. _Damn his eyes._

"Stop calling yourself that. Why do you insist on doing that to yourself?" Sherlock hissed angrily, pinning her against a wall. _Where did the wall come from?_

"Because it's true Sherlock! That's all I've ever gotten from you, anyway." She retorted, his anger fuelling her's.

"Did my words mean _nothing _to you?" he barked out. Damn, he was angry. Molly shuddered slightly, but kept her cool. "After everything I said to you, have you forgotten or did you not comprehend it? Why are you so _stupid_?"

_Okay, okay, breathe and count to ten and- _FUCK_ this._ Molly shoved Sherlock as hard as she could, surprisingly causing him to stumble, though probably in surprise.

"Of course I understand you sodding git! And unlike you, I get the fact that you actually MEANT what you said, but it doesn't mean you stopped treating me like your yes man, which I know I am. Remember the fight we had not too long ago? Do you remember what it was about?" Molly sighed, regretting going back to bad pasts.

"Sherlock, just _please_ stop with the charades, _please_." Molly hated the fact that she was sounding so desperate, and hated herself more when she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She closed her eyes and tried calming herself, when she felt fingers against her cheek and under her chin, turning her head upwards.

Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw were his lips. Those very pretty pink Cupid Bow shaped lips that were just so bloody kissable. Then vision trained upwards, where she saw Sherlock's eyes on his fingers, which were travelling across her cheek, wiping away tears. His other hand was still under her chin.

Sherlock moved his eyes to Molly, whose breathing involuntarily hitched. He leaned forward, his lips mere centimeters away from hers.

"I am sorry that I make you feel this way. I did not know- sentiment and _feelings_ are not my strong suits." Molly could hear the hesitation in his voice. Admitting weakness and apologizing in one sentence? Wow.

"Sherlock it's fine, okay? We can go back to normal."

"But I don't want your version of normal."

"Huh?"

"Again, Molly- I meant everything I said that night to you. Every word. Surely you believe me now. You have to Molly." The word _please_ hung silently in the air, as the two adults stood together.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Yes," he sighed out, slightly exasperated.

"Okay."

"Molly, haven't I expla- okay?"

"Yes Sherlock, okay. But we go slow. Deal?"

Sherlock grumbled slightly but agreed. Molly smiled slightly before settling down on her stool again.

"Molly?"

"Sherlock?"

"Can I kiss you?" Molly swiveled around and stared at the detective. He stood there slightly nervous and unsure. _Who the hell are you and what did you do to Sherlock Holmes?_

This was so cute and as much as Molly wanted to kiss him, she decided a little torture wouldn't hurt. Payback's a bitch, right?

"Well, Sherlock, usually a man doesn't kiss a girl until the second date, or a hell of a first one."

"Molly are you saying I have to take you on a _date_?"

"Well if you _are_ going to do this, you're doing it right, I mean, if you don't, Dr. Barton from neurology did give me a call last night so-"

"Okay fine. What will this _date_ have to entail?"

"_Surprise me_." Sherlock huffed again, unsatisfied with the answer.

"Well then, I will take my leave and plan this_ date_. John, come along._ JOHN!"_

"John's not here Sherlock- he's with Mary."

"Oh." The detective made a move to the door, but was stopped.

"What is it Molly?"

The pathologist gestured for him to lean down, to which he reluctantly obliged. Molly stood on her toes and leaned upwards, weaving her hands into Sherlock's dark locks. She moved her lips to his, and lingered before finally placing them on his.

The tingle that spread down her spine to, ahem, areas of her body was unexpected and caused her to open her mouth slightly. She slid her tongue and pushed at Sherlock's upper lip, waiting for him to grant her access.

His hands wound around her waist and pulled her closer; he opened his mouth and fought Molly's tongue for dominance as she entered. Sherlock won (duh) and wove into Molly's mouth, gliding past her teeth, exploring and tasting every last bit of her. She exhaled silently, but sharply against him, muffling any noises she may have made.

Suddenly she pulled away, smiled sweetly (well, as sweetly as a very snogged person can) at Sherlock and walked away.

"We weren't finished!" he exclaimed, pouting

"Yes we are- this is a work place, and if you pull off the date well, well then maybe this can be repeated, in more private conditions."

Sherlock smirked at the challenge, before nodding and striding out the door.

A few minutes later, Mary trotted in, a smile on her face.

"John's an amazing snogger."

"There is no way in _hell_ Sherlock Holmes is a virgin."

"NO way! Tell me everything Molls!"

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"Sherlock, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were snogging someone."

"It's plain that you were. Come on John- not in a hospital. In a pediatrician's office on top of that!"

"Shut up Sherlock- at least I'm getting some."

"Yes, yes you are." Sherlock smirked as he looked out the cab window, smirking even wider at John's confused expression behind him.

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"Rachel, are you listening again?" Aunt Molly asked. Rachel walked out from her room in Molly's home with a grin.

"Of course I did- Aunt Molly snogged Boffin Holmes, who's my uncle!" she sniggered.

"Rachel, you little imp." Mary said from the sofa, chuckling slightly.

"But you still love me. Mary- how much of your lipstick got on Dr. Watson? You couldn't have snogged him for that long!"

"Oh be quiet Rachel, and stop observing things." Mary said, chucking a pillow at the girl.

Molly's phone rang, and she had a brief conversation with her brother before hanging up.

"Matthew says Enola called. She wants you and your brother to get to know Sherlock and John more. Mary, the two of us are going shopping and for dinner with her." Molly said. Mary groaned into her pillow.

"Come on, Mary- it's just a day, and we were best friends, it would be that hard. Please?"

"Yeah, sure, fine. But if she makes one mistake- OFF WITH HER HEAD."

"That's the woman who made me we are talking about." Rachel said, chucking the pillow back at Mary.

"Sorry." The doctor muttered.

"Rachel," Molly began "on Friday, I'll pick you and your brother up from school and we'll go over to 221B. So make no plans for that day. Go tell your brother."

"This Friday? I was meant to go out with a few friends!"

"I'm sorry Rache, another day?" Molly asked. Rachel pouted, and walked away.

She barged into her brother's room, who was thankfully not doing anything private.

"We're visiting Uncle Sherlock on Friday. No plans to be made."

"But I have plans!" Charlie whined.

"So do I Charles. We just have to cancel I guess. I mean, we are going to have to meet our unknown family soon right? Besides, I don't think it will be that bad.

"If anything, I think the outcomes would prove to be quite interesting."

**So school has been annoying with all these announcements of upcoming tests, but on the plus side, I've finally gotten around to watching the first episode if the fifth series of Merlin. Seriously, if you don't watch it, I highly recommend it. Anyway, I have 95 reviews!**

**I am really hoping to get it past a hundred, it would be amazing to know so many of you enjoy this story and actually care enough to tell me, or give me a few pointers. (So far no flamers, but if you are itching, go right ahead- I'll have a special shout out for you ;) ) Thank you to all you amazing reviewers, my unofficial beta Grace, to Lucy36 who always finds a way to give me constructive ****criticism and help me improve my writing, and to all you floaters who I also love (Love you more if you'd review?)  
**

**So 'til next time folks!**

**-Ash :)**


	12. Secret Plans and Awkward Shopping Trips

**Yay! Chapter 12! Now time for some ****shout outs?**

**magicstrikes:** In my messed up mind, no way is Sherlock Holmes a virgin...I mean look at him! And I'm sure he'd have wanted to experiment...ahh yes Enola, she's a jealous one isn't she? :P

**lostmypen120: **Awww yeah Sherlolly did! Hope you like the next chapter- thanks for the review! :))

**Empress of Verace: **Haha, thanks. I was hoping Rachel wouldn't come of as to much like Sherlock, but it's good to know her humour is like his :D Thanks for reviewing!

**MorbidbyDefault: **Haha, thank you so much! I figured it's time that Sherlock got a taste of his own medicine :)) Thanks for reviewing!

**Adi who is also Mou: **thank you for the review, hope you enjoy this chapter :D

**avatardsherlockian: **Thank you! I'm ecstatic about it- yule, I figured my amazing reader deserved a little bit of hard-to-get Molly :DD

**sheipweiralways: **Hey, no worries, but thank you for reviewing anyway! I know, he is a total arse, that's why I decided it was time he was served some of his own medicine in a really, really big spoon. Yes, yes we should. Just tell me when he needs them and I'll be there right on time. SHERLOCK: you can use me as a lab rat for your...'social' experiments ANY time...;D HOpe you enjoy this chapter!

**MollyHooperRules: **Thank you for reviewing! I know, Sweet! Sherlock always makes me want to curl up and cry. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! :D

**friend2friend1: **Haha yeah DATE NIGHT! However, that will be here in a couple chapters. But it will come soon- PROMISE! HOpe you like this update! :DD

**Yukkin: **Haha Boffin...don't use my words dude...did you even read it properly? We were going into class when you shoved your phone in my face to taunt me...anyway make sure you review this chapter (if you read it, which you will) xD love you Ms. Artist-Jace-Will-Sherlock-TMI-ID-JCB lover!

**Watersong77: **YOUR DEMAND HAS BEEN ACCEPTED AND GRANTED. WE HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR READ HERE ON THE SNAPPING POINT CHAPTER 12. Thanks for the review, hope you enjoy! :)

**booklover669: **OHMYGOD- you are a Merlin fan to? I have amazing readers...^.^

**Four Rights and a Square: **Thank you...well the main and original characters I obviously got from the TV show or the original series. I got Matthew because I needed a brother for Molly, and I wanted a guy who's name started with the letter M- it was the first name that came to mind. I've always loved the name Mia, so she became his wife. Rachel has always been a cool name in my opinion, and my friend recommended it to me. Charlie? Well, I used to be obsessed with Roald Dahl and Charlie and he Chocolate Factory so...Micah is a name that I find adorable on people so I wanted Rachel's cute little brother to have it. The Holmes family deserve very...different names, I mean look at Sherlock's and Mycroft's! The mum I thought should have a more common name so she got Aliana, Alia for short. Enola is based a not very well known book series where the protagonist is the (made-up) sister of Sherlock Holmes (She's a detective as well, but not a deducer like Sherlock). That and her name is actually an anagram of a word that shows who/what she truly is. You'll find out what I mean of you can't decipher it (but it's pretty simple) HOpe you got all that! Enjoy the next chapter! :))

**Whew lot's of shout outs. Look people, if I owned Sherlock, I'd be rubbing it in all your faces, but I don't. So I just ****fantasise...**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy:**

John opened the door to 221B to be greeted by his (girlfriend?), Molly and the two teens, who unceremoniously let themselves in before plopping casually on the couch, on either side of Sherlock who had just been shaken out of his mind palace.

He got up, dragging his bed sheet around his robe-clad body and made his way to the door.

"I was woken out of my mind palace."

"Yes, Sherlock, we know. So are you two staying here or are you meeting Enola somewhere else?" John asked the women.

"Do you mind if we come in for a few minutes? Enola said she'd meet us here."

"Of course, of course."

John helped Mary and Molly out of their coats and left them on the rack.

"John, why don't you show me around? I'd fancy a private tour." Mary asked

"Of course, right this way m'lady."

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Sherlock saw Molly roll her eyes at her friend's obvious attempt to be alone with John. But then, Mary turned around, saw him, turned to Molly and winked at her; Molly pursed her lips and childishly stuck her tongue at Mary's retreating back.

_What? Oh...she wants _us_ alone. Not half dumb._

Molly turned to Sherlock and smiled

"Hullo Sherlock." she said cheerfully. He really would have made an honest attempt to greet her back, but he wanted his four 'o'clock coffee. In the end, Sherlock managed something between a horse grunt and a pig snort. Molly chuckled.

"Someone hasn't had their coffee. Rachel what _are_ you doing?" she asked the muttering girl.

Sherlock looked to the teenager, who was holding his skull.

_His skull._

No one touched that.

"It looked like a good listener, and I was bored so.." Rachel shrugged her shoulders as she placed it carefully back on the mantelpiece, in the exact position it was in before. Sherlock snorted at the air.

_As long as it didn't break._

Molly nudged Sherlock in the arm. He turned to her.

"I'm sorry about Rachel, she's a bit touchy feely and, well, if she, uh, well, she's a bit like you. She observes, _quite_ well, and so does her brother when he's interested, so...watch out. Just in case."

Sherlock glanced at her and actually _saw_ her for the first time that day.

_Skinny jeans and flowy blouse- comfortable for a day out and easy to get out off. Going shopping. Hair let down- just washed and still too damp to tie up. Minimal make up- doesn't feel the need to impress anybody. All together, casual, simple and beautiful._

Sherlock stopped short at the last word. When did he start calling people beautiful? The fact that she wasn't trying to impress anyone was a sure sign that she was with him. The thought made him swell up slightly with pride, though he wasn't sure why.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Molly answered it to welcome Enola. She walked in and strode over to Sherlock, hugging him tightly and cheerfully doing the same to Charlie and Rachel. They fell into an easy chat about lord knows what.

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Enola chatted with her two children about school and their latest gossip, but her eyes kept training back to her brother and Molly. What were they doing?_ They weren't a couple were they?_ Enola couldn't have that- she had just gotten her kids back, kind of, and was on the road of mending her relationship with friends.

If Molly hurt Sherlock or vice versa, her efforts would be in vain- she just couldn't have it.

No- they could not be together. It was for the good of everybody.

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"So..."

"..."

"So..."

"..."

"So..."

"..."

"S-"

"Are you going to keep saying 'so' until I respond?"

"The fact that you asked, Uncle Sherlock, makes me think that you know the answer."

"What do you want, child?"

"My name is Rachel."

"..."

"My name is Rachel."

"...'

"My name is Rach-"

"OKAY, _Rachel_- what do you want?" Sherlock hissed. _Good, I have his attention. _

"It's come to my attention, Uncle Sherlock, that you need help."

"Help with what exactly?"

"Oh come on, have you already forgotten about the date you have to plan for Aunt Molly?" Sherlock turned to stare at her. _Target acquired._

"So?"

"Have you thought of anything yet?"

"...no"

"I thought so. Let Charlie and I help you."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Uncle Sherlock, which direction do you believe this argument is heading towards?"

"Nowhere."

"No- as a child with higher tolerance, I can carry on saying please until the night is out, and I will keep pestering you- I mean, it's not that hard to contact you. We ARE family. You will get tired of this irritant and you know the only thing that will stop me is agreeing to let me help you. Besides, without Charlie and I, you are going to crash and burn. It's painfully obvious." Rachel smiled sweetly at Sherlock, waiting for an answer.

"You are not as dumb as most children."

"I know- it must be genetic." Sherlock's lips twitched upwards at the comment.

"Yes, genetic. Fine you may help. But, nothing annoyingly romantic, cheesy or sappy. Or John-like for that matter" he said, cringing slightly.

"Do you want our help or not?"

"Fine, fine."

_Bullseye._

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Mary knew there was something up with Enola. She promised Molly that she would try mending their relationship (Mia certainly refused) but there was something completely off about her.

"So, you and my brother huh?" Enola asked Molly. The pathologist blushed and stuttered something about 'trying it out' or whatever and Mary could swear the taller woman's eyes narrowed.

_What is so off putting about her? Does she have a problem with what will be the cutest couple this world has to offer?Honestly..._

The shopping, least to say, was awkward. Mary's life seemed to revolve around the word. Of course Enola talked to her, just like they used at college, but about 95% of her dialogue with Molly went like this:

Molly: Wow! I love this top!

Enola: As much as you love the new man in your life?

Molly: What? Enola, Sherlock and I are just, uh, trying it out.

Enola: Trying it out? That's nice

Molly: ...*awkward/guilty face*

Enola: Oh what a lovely skirt! I'm going to try this on!

After _that_ particular variation (which happened to be the sixth or seventh...maybe eighth of the original- one that featured a rainbow feathered boa and a certain detective's sexiness on a scale of one to ten. It was eleven, obviously.) the doctor finally dragged her best friend to a corner.

"What the hell is_ wrong_ with her?"

"What do you mean, Mary?"

"Do you not see what she's doing? Why is she prying into your life like that? When I say life, I mean your life with _him_"

"Look, she must feel protective over Sherlock- I would be the same if it were Matthew. Besides, we aren't even a couple yet."

"Exactly! And she's already trying to tear you two apart."

"Mary that's not-"

"Yes it is!"

"Anyway, you said you would try. Look, she's coming - be nice."

Mary seethed as Molly walked off, praising Enola and that skimpy piece of cloth barely covering her inner thighs. Okay, that's not true- it was at least at her mid thighs. And she did look amazing in it.

_Poisonous frogs have pretty markings on its body to warn others of its danger._

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Enola knew that Mary knew Enola was purposely making Molly uncomfortable. To tell the truth, Enola wasn't fully sure why she was doing it either.

Then she remembered that this was the woman who would potentially steal her brother away from her. The woman who would hurt him.

She knew Molly would hurt him.

Intentionally or not, it could, would _never_ happen. Sherlock was _her_ brother.

The only problem? She was going to have to be more subtle- Mary couldn't catch on.

Maybe she'd start tomorrow.

"So how do you think you're going to go through with this relationship. Sherlock was never the feely in touchy-feely."

"But he was the touchy?" Mary drawled. Enola smirked.

"Actually, I believe he was." she said, drawing out the sentence to make the innuendo as clear as possible.

Molly spluttered on her drink.

"I-I was told he was a-a, well, um, v-virgin." she choked out.

"Mycroft told you? Oh no, I was much closer to Sherlock than he was. Nope- definitely not a virgin. Both ways."

Enola fought down the surge of guilt when she realised how awkward she'd made the day- especially for Molly, who was staring dazedly into space. But it was all for the good of everyone. For the whole family.

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"Movie!"

"Dinner!"

"Movie!"

"Dinner!"

"Dear lord Rachel, you don't want to bore Molly!"

"Well Charlie, Aunt Molly is a romantic and 'Candlelight Dinner' is ROMANTIC!"

"MOVIE- and it can be a sopping chick flick!"

"DINNER- and it won't be candlelit okay?"

"How about both?" John asked from an armchair nearby.

"NO!"

Sherlock sat on his favourite chair, listening, amused at the ongoing argument.

"I believe what John said holds a small amount of logic."

"Thank you Sherlock."

"I said a little. You are still above Anderson, but you are barely a tie with Lestrade. Moving on, both ideas presented are good, but from research going to extremes on both ends would not end very well."

"So what are your thoughts then?" Charlie asked.

"I think we should merge both ideas together, but at the same time keep it simple."

The two children sat on the carpet in the living room, thinking over what Sherlock just said.

"How do you want to keep it simple, Uncle Sherlock?"

Sherlock winced slightly at the 'uncle' part. John chuckled in the corner but sobered when Sherlock shot him a glare.

"Child, stop calling me uncle."

"I'll do that when you stop alternating between my name and 'child'."

Sherlock huffed. Rachel smirked- surprisingly like Sherlock himself. Then an idea clicked in his whirring mind.

"We should keep it simple," he said "simple, and at home."

Rachel smiled.

"Good job, uncle. You may be a natural at this."

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The three woman burst through the door, shopping bags covering their bodies neck down. Molly smiled a little at the scene in front of her; Rachel and Charlie were seated on the floor of the living room, in front of Sherlock and John, all four in deep discussion.

"Aunt Molly!" Rachel cried, immediately ceasing all discussion. John was wearing a look that screamed 'WE'RE KEEPING A SECRET FROM YOU'

_huh, weird._

Enola stepped in front of her.

"Hey guys!"

Molly was a bit miffed by the fact that Enola had just jumped up like that in front of her, but she reminded herself: she had just been reunited with her children- Enola, in a way, had a right to do that. Besides, this woman was Sherlock Holmes sister. The unintentional rudeness clearly ran in the genes.

Maybe what Mary had said had been true...no, she was just making conversation- Enola was always one to speak before thinking.

"Well I'd best get going...unless Molly and Mary- would you like a ride home?"

"Oh, no it's _fine_ Enola- the two of us have to send the kids home anyway." Molly answered.

"I'm sure you could all fit in my car- it is a four seater."

"Enola, a two door coupé counts as two seats and an extra boot. Do you not realise that there are five of us?" Mary answered, almost retorted. Molly kicked her discreetly in the shin. Turning around, she saw Sherlock frowning at the pediatrician.

"Enola, seriously, we are completely fine. We'll see you soon, yeah? You are taking the kids out later this week?" Molly interjected.

Enola, who eyes had narrowed dangerously at Mary's remark, brightened.

"Of course- Thursday. Tell Matt I'll pick 'em up."

"Oh no, Thursday's both work late, they'll be at mine."

"Of course- see you then Molls." the women hugged, Mary and Enola having a very awkward one, and Enola let herself out.

"Do you want to stay for tea?"

"YES." Mary exclaimed, flopping down next to JOhn. Sherlock frowned slightly deeper.

Molly sat down in the last seat available- the end of the sofa closest to Sherlock's armchair.

Yay.

"What did you guys do today then?" she asked the kids.

"Oh. We argued, planned, argued a bit more, planned more, blah, blah, blah." Charlie said casually.

"Planned what?"

"It's a surprise."

Molly frowned, She'd learned to be careful around the kids.

"O-kaaay," she said dragging out the word. Rachel moved towards her and sat in front of her shins. Spreading her legs slightly, she allowed Rachel to move closer and began braiding her hair. Rachel always loved people playing with her hair. John came in with a tray of four steaming cups of tea. He gave out the first two to Mary and Sherlock, leaving the third for Molly on the coffee table in front of her and sipping from his own cup. Rachel reached for Molly's cup and took a sip.

"Do you always have to take it black?" she asked, pursing her lips at the bitterness.

"Black's nice, especially with the sugar." Charlie interjected.

"Disgusting people drinking _black_ tea. Who likes bitter stuff. Poison is bitter." the teenager muttered back.

The unlikely group spent the rest of the time chatting randomly and easily, until finally the visitors took their leave.

Molly smiled, watching John and Mary kiss goodbye. It would be amazing to have something like that. She looked towards Sherlock, who glanced at her. She turned away; _maybe that day is not too far away_. Looking back, she saw the adults still lip-locked.

"Okay come on- as much as I want to give you all the privacy you want, there are children here and I'm taking the weekend morning shift tomorrow." Molly called out. Mary broke away from John.

"Party pooper," she muttered "see you tomorrow John." she said, pecking him on the lips and walking out, the children following her.

"Bye Molls." John said warmly, hugging her before hearing his phone ring.

"Must be the hospital- am working part time now as a locum G.P"

"Hey that's great- don't let me hold you then." Molly said, grinning. John left leaving the detective and pathologist together, alone.

And we all know what happened last time they were alone.

"So, I'll see you then Sherlock." Molly smiled. She was having a horrible feeling that Sherlock had come to his senses and didn't fancy her anymore. He probably had other, more beautiful women than her. She turned to leave when he pulled her back.

"Wait Molly. Next Saturday, 7:00 pm. I'll pick you up from your apartment. Nothing too fancy, but do dress up a little." he said, with his usual boredly amused face. Was that a hint of insecurity there?

"Wait what? Oh, _oh_." she said in realisation, her heart swelling when his words proved her previous insecurities wrong. Yet she was still unsure "You're actually going through with this?"

"Of course- unless you don't?" he asked, the hint of insecurity passing through his features again.

"NO, _NO!_" Molly exclaimed "No, of course not." she said calming her breathing "Never mind- I didn't say anything. I'd love to go. See you then, Sherlock. Unless of course there's a nice gruesome murder before then." Sherlock smirked again slightly. Then, he surprised her. Leaning down, he placed a small peck on the left tip of Molly's mouth.

"Good day, Molly." he whispered. Pulling away he spoke louder.

"Remember, dress up, but not too fancy. Our destination is a surprise."

Molly walked out the building 221 Baker Street in a slight daze. Meeting her friend with her niece and nephew, they walked off.

Mary gave her a questioning look

"I'll tell you later." she said, barely containing her grin.

**So that's the end of another chapter folks! Now, I seriously do apologise for my very, very late update. School's been ****horrible and the mere word makes me cringe physically. Seriously. That and I've had a serious head cold, so every draft I wrote up literally made my beta yell at me. And I do realise there is absolutely no fluff whatsoever, but this is more of a build up kind of chapter, and the next one may be to...but only so that the chapter after that will be dedicated solely on the date! I promise to all of you that chapter 14 will be the most fluff filled romantic thing. Any ideas on what the date should be? All ideas are welcome- just P.M or write in a review!**

**But on a good note- 100 reviews! You people are amazing, I love you all! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, that will review, to my favouriters and followers and all of you floaters, I love you to! So I've watched Merlin x06, but I haven't gotten around to x07...Morgana you twisted, twisted woman...**

**Is anyone else here waiting for the 'Big Fat Quiz of the Year 2012'? I hope Russel Brand's on again...**

**Review? You know you WANT to...come at me flames- give me all you got**

**-Ash :)**


	13. Preparing for the Best

**120 reviews! I love you all! Now here are some shout outs to my lovely reviewers:**

**magicstrikes: haha, that is true...oh Enola, she's a tough one isn't she? I love Mary so much- she's my favourite character, after Sherlock of course.**

**EmpressofVerace: It is, took ****a lot outta me :D and nope, Enola is not making many friends. Nope, not at all.**

**RockingtheRedhead: I believe so to. In a fight with Enola vs. Rachel and Mary, I'd place all my money on the latter for sure.**

**Watersong77: Awwww, you're welocome- thank you so much! **

**MorbidbyDefault: Don't worry, Rachel won't let Enola take things to far, thank you,and I do feel better!**

**lostmypen120: Oh yeah...with her around, things do spell trouble, but not to worry, they have both Rachel AND Mary on their side :D**

**sheipweir always: Thabk you so much, I wasn't sure how things would come of in the shopping scene at all. That's a great idea for the first date, but unfortunately I have something else, and a lot less extravagant, already written out. However, you did give me an amazing idea that I am going to utilise very, very soon. Let's just say tat of anything tears Sherlolly apart, Sherlock has some speacial skills that could make everything all better ;)**

**louisethelibrarian: oh cool, you got the anagram, I am going to utilise that against her quite soon in the story actually :D**

**GuessWho: thank you so much! NO one has said that this was the best fanfic they've read- thank you SOOOO much! Merlin Season 5 so far is really QUITE intense. It starts of a bit mehhh but I have to tell you, that Morgana is very, very twisted...oh and wait 'til you see a well-known character grow up. I'm gonna miss Asa Butterfield but...damn...again thank you so much!**

**potentiallylovely: I know, she should. Don't worry I'll let 'em have thier fun... for now...;D  
**

**Yukkin: Yes, and someone forgot to bring it to SCHOOL! Come on man, I need my crossover drawing of my favourite detective, warlock and shadowhunter who all somehow have dark hair and blue eyes with light haired sidekicks. No I am NOT getting a type! Oh...and they're all British...**

**LaserGirl77: Thank you so much! Well here is the next chapter!**

**So if I owned Sherlock, I'd be rubbing it in your faces everyday, because I'd get to meet Benedict Cumberbatch and the rest of the team. So yeah.**

**ENJOY:**

Molly was trying. She really was. But really, when you have an annoying D.S and idiotic Forensics Officer breathing down your back, it's impossible.

"James, can you _please _back off? You're blocking my light." she huffed as she tried to work on the stupid body. She was done, _thank god_, before they all stormed in, but now she couldn't even finish stitching the damn abdomen together! She breathed in relief when she cut the excess thread on the final stitch. Greg was smiling in amusement in the corner. _Arse_ she thought _standing there smirking like an arse, won't help me with _these _arses_.

"So what do you reckon so far Molly?" he asked straightening and walking over.

"Well, obviously, the man was-" she was cut off with the loud thud as the double doors of the morgue swung open to welcome a certain consulting detective and his best friend/ sidekick/ blogger/ doctor/. She flashed her usual quick, polite smile before carrying on.

"The man was shot by an eight millimeter, but the entrance wound is clearly through the front of the head, not the back." Molly stated, sending a pointed look at Anderson, who was showing a look of disbelief.

"It was at the back!"

"James, I checked. You were at the crime scene and you look tired. I have the instruments with me- I'm the forensics _pathologist_ here. I'd be pretty useless if I can't even tell which side a bullet entered, right?" she said firmly. "Moving on, from the angle and deepness of the wound, the shooter would have been significantly taller, around six feet three, and it would have been point blank range. On an added not, the neck does have abrasions on them, made by rope- possibly because he was tied, but the marks are significantly older than that of the wound."

"So what does that mean?" Sally asked, sounding irritated.

"What do you think?" Sherlock retorted, as snidely as the woman had asked Molly earlier.

"It means, that this woman was probably tortured. Judging by the colour and shape of the bruises, the were made before the gunshot. But neither was the C.O.D - " the morgue phone rang suddenly. Molly answered, receiving news about a staff meeting. By the time she was done, Sherlock was done explaining and had somehow insulted Anderson in that small space of time because the two men were staring each other down. The morgue was filled with tense silence, until Anderson started spewing spit-enhanced insults at the detective, who merely raised an eyebrow before wiping the frothy liquid of his cheek. Sally glared angrily and yelled something at Sherlock, probably about him being freak.

As usual, the pathologist pretended to be oblivious and went back to her body.

_That woman really needs an insult upgrade._

"Okay boys, pack it in. Sherlock, let's go." Greg said; John dragged the detective out the room. The men left the room, leaving the two women alone.

"Get your _freak_ of my boyfriend's back, Molly." Sally fumed.

"Sally, you really have to learn to control your jealousy over everyone. That, and you need an insult upgrade. Honestly. And boyfriend? Really? I'd never realised that an affair could be classified in that category. Has James told Beatrice yet?" Molly smiled at the now seething woman and turned back to her paperwork, humming softly.

"Oh, can you not show yourself out? The door's over there, in case you didn't know." Molly added. Sally huffed audibly and stormed out the room in a huff. Molly chuckled to herself.

Suddenly, her phone chimed.

**Saturday at 7 p.m- wear something nice, but not too. -SH**

Molly almost choked. She had a date with him- how could she forget? She breathed deeply through her nose, calming down slightly before a huge grin plastered itself onto her face. It lingered for a while until a thought came to mind that wiped it off. She frantically focused back on her phone and dialed some very familiar numbers. She needed her fashion guru.

"Mary. Date. Saturday. 7. Fancy, but not too. Help. Sherlock."

"On it. After shift okay?"

"..."

"Molly breathe and answer, it is preferable that you aren't dead before the date."

"Okay, okay. See you."

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Sherlock sat in the black cab next to John. His phone chimed, alerting him of an incoming message.

_Ah, reply from Molly._ He unlocked his phone and smirked, once again right. He looked at the message that was clearly shown in black wrapped in a grey speech bubble:

**of course, see you then. Mx**

The tips of his lips curled slightly at the text. He looked out the window, still smiling, when his mind addressed him with a new problem. Quickly, the smile dissipated into a frown. He thought through the problem, thinking through the people he could rely on to help him work it out. Glancing to his left, he spotted John. The two glanced at each other, the detective giving John an abnormal smile.

_He's the answer._

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The men trudged up to the front door of 221B. Sherlock stepped away, allowing John to unlock the door before sweeping in first. John rolled his eyes at his friend's need to be in front and followed suit, hanging his jacket next to the infamous Belstaff.

"I'm making tea- do you want some?"

"If you can make it in less than the usual ten minutes, yes."

"Yes, or no, Sherlock. I can make it in less than the usual ten minutes, yes."

"Yes, or no, Sherlock."

"Fine, yes." John sighed and walked to the kitchen and began preparing the beverage.

Eleven and a half minutes later (John was being deliberately slow) the veteran stepped out balancing the cups in his hand. He handed one to the irritated detective and sat himself on his armchair. The next few minutes were spent in companionable silence.

"John?"

"Hmm?" the doctor hummed back in response, not really paying attention.

"I-I believe, that I, uh, I need-"

"Out with it Sherlock." John answered, slightly suspicious, if not anything. Why was Sherlock Holmes stammering?

"I need advice, John." well, that woke him up.

"What?"

"You heard me perfectly- don't make me repeat myself."

"Okay, fine. What do you need help with Sherlock?" John asked, smirking. Since when did he have a one up on Sherlock?

"As you know, I have invited Molly over on Friday night to, well you know. Anyway, what I need help in is behavior."

"No crap you do." Sherlock glared half-heartedly.

"John, I really need this...help." John softened, he really wanted this.

"Okay, fine. The first rule is: no insulting her, physically, emotionally, on who she dates, etcetera. You know what? You aren't allowed to say anything negative whatsoever."

"John. I merely tell the truth as I see it."

"Well keep it to yourself."

"Why? People should know their flaws."

"Yes, well, Molly has heard enough from you on that topic."

"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock demanded. John stared at him in disbelief. This man really thought he did nothing wrong. Rubbing his palm down his face, John groaned.

There was a _lot_ of work to be done.

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Rachel sat on the soft mattress in Molly's room, watching silently in amusement as her aunt and Mary bustled about trying to pick out a dress or skirt, well anything really, for her date. When she was picked up from her home, Molly was in a state of pure stress, while Mary was as happy-go-lucky as she normally was. Now, it seemed the roles were reversed.

_You would think it was Mary's date._ The woman in question was in the process of flinging random items of clothing onto the bed.

A bunch of pencil skirts were thrown off their hangars. A pretty sundress was discarded on the bed. A cute brown and gold braided belt was on the floor. More blouses joined the heap. Another skirt landed on the dresser. Shoes flew around the room. A simple black belt, followed by a chunky green one almost gave the teenager a concussion.

Rachel felt the bed shift as her aunt joined her, wearing a twin mask of amusement as her niece. Both shared a look and chuckled to themselves, before lapsing into a conversation about their day. After a while, a thud resounded in the small room. Mary had finally lost all her strength and had slumped herself against the wooden cupboard.

"I give up," she cried out melodramatically "this is all I can think of. Rachel, can't you just tell us what the bloody date is, at least me?"

"Lord, no. It ruins the surprise for Aunt Molly, and if I told you, the first thing you'd do is go tell her!" she said, standing up. She walked over to Mary, who was crouched on the floor, holding out a skin coloured V-neck midthigh dress. Rachel regarded the fabric closely, holding it against herself (they all were the same size anyway) and slipped it over her head. Looking at herself in the mirror, she imagined herself as her aunt and smiled. It was great, but it just needed one more thing.

Slipping out of it, Rachel tossed the fabric at Molly who caught it effortlessly. Rachel walked around the room until she finally found it. Picking up the leather-braided belt, she handed it to her aunt.

"This should suffice. The dress is quite formal, I know, but with the belt and a pair of platforms and your body, it will look great." Mary glanced up wearily and smiled.

"Yeah, you'd look beautiful, Molls." Just then the doorbell rang. Molly left the room to answer and soon the small space was flooded with the voice of Enola. Rachel caught Mary scowling, and felt a slight bout of anger welling in her, but pushed it away when the new guest stepped in the room.

"Woah, what's all this then?" Enola asked, laughing.

"Aunt Molly needed help picking out something on her date with Sherlock." the teenager answered, giving her mother a hug. Enola tensed at the word date, and as she pulled away, Rachel caught the frown before the usual happy mask replaced it.

"That's great!" she said, continuing on. Rachel wasn't listening.

_Why is she frowning? And the tensing? She's obviously not happy about something, but what could it be? It happened when I hugged her, but the tense was during the hug, so it wasn't me, thank god. Maybe it was what I said - but why would she be upset about Molly and Sherlock?_

_Unless she's jealous? About what- they're all related and Enola's not lesbian right? No, she isn't, if she is, she hides it extremely well. Moving on...is she jealous because it would mean Sherlock would spend more time with Molly? Assuming, of course, that everything works, which it will. _

_That must be it; Enola doesn't want to share her brother._

Coming out of her mental analysing, the first thing Rachel heard was her mother's voice

"Where is this date, Molly? Isn't that a bit too...I don't know where you can wear that. Certainly not a fancy restaurant, too casual. Definitely not a stroll in the park or a trip to the movies, too formal. Where are you going?"

"I don't know Enola, it's apparently a surprise."

"Oh...well, I don't think that's Sherlock's forte in things- he was never good at these things. Are you sure you're going to go through with this?" she asked. Rachel frowned slightly. She didn't want it to be, but her conclusion may have been true. If Enola knew anything about her brother, which she did, Sherlock had done his research and the date plan was his own original idea. Sherlock was good at surprises if he took the time and effort.

"Oh Enola, it's fine, really. Rachel did help him out." Enola turned to look at the girl, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, trust me, it's going to be exactly what she needs." Rachel said. Enola nodded slightly.

"Well come on Rachel, time for some mother-daughter quality time!" she said, all cheerfulness back in her voice. Grabbing her things Rachel walked out behind her, Molly and Mary trailing after. Saying her goodbyes, she left the apartment with her mother. Hopefully, she'd find out more about her mother's distaste to the idea of Molly and Sherlock together.

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_Six days later_

"Oh, Molly, Rachel was right, you look gorgeous!" Mary gushed as they stood side-by-side, hands around each other's waists in front of the mirror. The skin coloured dress looked perfect against Molly's slightly darker tone, at the same time bringing out the colour in her hair, which was once again left down in slight curls. She stood slightly taller than her friend in high gold platforms, eyeing herself in the glass.

"And you look stunning." she said, turning her gaze to Mary, who was clad in a figure hugging skirt and loosely tucked in blouse, showing of her amazing, voluptuous figure.

"I know, we both do. Now let's go and knock 'em boys of their arses." she said, sashaying out of the room.

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"Do you have everything set then?" John asked, smirking slightly.

"Yes, everything will go according as planned."

"With what you've got, I think you'd be in for a good night." John replied, his smirk growing wider.

"Do shut up. Where are you taking your girlfriend?"

"Out to dinner, then maybe some dancing. Don't worry, I'll be back after midnight, I promise." The two men stood for a while longer in companionable silence.

"Do you think it'll go well?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"What you've planned is amazing. She'll never have realised you could be such a romantic. If you play it out right and say the right things, I don't think it will be night she'll be able to forget. Just remember, Sherlock- she really, really likes you, maybe even border lining on love. Please be careful with her. Do not string her along, and definitely do not hurt her too much if the time ever comes. And seriously, NO insults. Understand?" Sherlock glanced sideways at the shorter man. Somehow, he knew that he wasn't going to string Molly along. He definitely wasn't going to do anything in his power to hurt her intentionally. Insults? He was sure he could find a way to hold it in somehow.

"I do." he said quietly. Looking back at the doctor he said "Thank you." John nodded his head slightly and smiled.

Way too soon, the doorbell rang. If there ever was a time when Sherlock Holmes wanted to crawl away into his mind palace, it would be now.

**Okay, so I know that this isn't my best work because, well, the date was meant to be added to this chapter, but I realised that there would be WAY to many words, so I cut it down and realised it was the worst date ever written. So I cut out the entire date and dedicated the entire next chapter to it. Then I realised that it looked very odd to have the date so abruptly dumped up and I decided it needed a bridge in between...SO this chapter is like a small little follow up chapter. Don't worry, the date is finished and is waiting there on my Doc Manager- so don't worry, I WILL make it up to you next time...**

**...promise.**

**Review anyone? Please?! Even if it's hate mail saying I suck at writing...**

**Love you SO much!**

**-Ash :)**

**P.S: I promise the minute I get 12 reviews, the date goes up...either that or I'll wait around two weeks until my exams are over- which ever comes first! **

**again,**

**-Ash :)**


	14. Lots of Flowers, Lots of Fireworks

**Okay, so I said 12 reviews and this chapter goes up right? Well I got 13 in two days, so I am sorry I'm late! Now, I'm in a rush so I can't really do shout outs, but I promise to do 'em all next chapter, so for now, I quick thank you to: ****magicstrikes(always the first reviewer!), Empress of Verace, MorbidbyDefault, RockingtheRedhead, sheipweir always, Mariel221B, booklover669, LaserGirl77, AdaYuki, Guest, Guest and Watersong77 for the thirteen reviews in TWO days.**

**To everyone else yet to read, or those who didn't have time to review, to the floaters, and even to anyone who reads this to laugh at my writing, thank you so much for even clicking on the link to read! Now you all know I don't own Sherlock.**

**ENJOY:**

Right then, as John walked up to open the door, Sherlock really wished he hadn't accepted when Mary said she'd bring Molly over, to save time for Sherlock having to pick her up at her apartment. He would never admit it to anyone, ever, but Sherlock was- well Sherlock Holmes was feeling like a nervous wreck. Literally. His stomach was twisting and his stomach acids were crashing against the walls, alerting him of his lack of nutrition. Usually he'd ignore it, but now he could barely swallow the bitter bile that was creeping up the back of his throat.

And he could barely compute the overwhelming excitement that was washing over everything else.

He listened, but not really, as John and Mary greeted each other. Where was Molly? The couple left the apartment. Sherlock nodded half-heartedly at some last minute warning from John. Then he heard them say goodbye a second time. Footsteps clacked and stomped down the stairs, when a softer pair entered the room.

Molly spent the first few seconds looking around the room. The first thing he noticed were her hands. They were flying everywhere; flitting from the bangles on her wrist, to the hem of her dress, up to brushing her hair from her face. One thing that had always infuriated Sherlock about the pathologist was her need to cover herself in what he deemed to be a grandmother's drapes or pillow could never make accurate assumptions about anything- she probably did put on two and a half pounds rather than three when he questioned her during her time with...him.

But now? Now she was dressed, still conservative, but stylish, feminine, and she looked stunning. Maybe it was the simplicity of her clothes, or just the change in 'genre' she wore. John had said something earlier about no insults. Insults? Pfft. Anyone who'd insult Molly right then would either be blind, in denial, or outright jealous (honestly, the last choice would be more common than one would think). She was now looking at him, openly admiring him. Inwardly, he smirked; on the outside, he stepped forward and placed his hand on the small of her back guiding her to the door. He walked up to her, before bringing his right arm from behind his back. In his hand was a beautiful bouquet of assorted, aromatic flowers. Molly grinned widely, beautifully, he thought before mentally hitting himself, before giggling nervously and accepting.

"Shall we depart?" he asked. Molly giggled again slightly before nodding her head.  
"Of course." she grinned, allowing Sherlock to lead her out the door.

Sherlock caught her look of surprise when they went up instead of down.  
"Where are we-"  
"You'll see Molly." They walked up two flights of stairs, to the highest storey in the building, in silence. Sherlock was contemplating her potential reactions. She would either love it, or be disappointed, according to his nephew and niece. His fingers were crossed that it would be the former. He walked her up another small ladder of steps and stopped her at the plain black door, once again taking in how adorable she looked with her face scrunched in confusion. He shook his head and brought himself back to reality. Time for the moment of truth.  
What if it was too simple? Too boring? Too dull for her tastes? It definitely isn't extravagant. his mind couldn't help but wonder. Never mind, he told himself, it is too late now. As he took a deep breath and pushed open the door, he looked down at her face- he didn't want to miss a single reaction.

The detective watched as Molly's frown morphed into a small 'O' of surprise and disbelief, before turning into a gasp that transformed into a massive grin. He took note and hurriedly stored the way her face lit up and the disbelieving laugh that broke from her. Stepping upwards, she stood on the roof of 221 Baker Street. She took a slow spin of the area her grin growing wider. He silently thanked those children, before stepping out to join her, a small smile on his face. She stopped twirling around and grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling.  
"Sherlock, this is beautiful!" she breathed.  
"Mrs. Hudson's private garden."  
"It's amazing Sherlock, truly amazing. I never knew Mrs. Hudson was so...talented!" he grinned this time. She was really loving this.  
"Then let us truly start this date." he said holding his arm out to her. She laughed again and laced her arm through his, allowing him to lead her away.  
0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o 0o0o0  
Molly honestly couldn't pick a single feeling out of the jumble of emotions in her head as she walked with Sherlock. It was all so surreal. If someone had walked up to her, all those years ago when Sherlock first pranced his still pompous arse into the morgue and told Molly she would be out on this outstanding evening, she would have been the first to check him into a mental hospital.  
The grin on her face refused to falter, and truthfully, her cheeks was cramping (not that she cared). London was a loud, bustling, concrete jungle, but all that disappeared as they climbed up on that roof. The area was filled to the brim with plants and vines, a transparent giant greenhouse erected in the centre took up most of the space. The floor around the was covered with tubs and pots of flowering plants with a small area left bare to serve as a narrow path to get to and from the greenhouse and the entrance and around the plants themselves. There was an obvious border, though, so the edges of the wide, concrete roof was left dull and undecorated. She could see how well hidden the space was from wandering eyes below. She had always known Mrs. Hudson had something hidden inside that kind old landlady who put up with a man-child detective, but she never would have thought it was a talent as beautiful as this.  
Sherlock led her through the transparent door and as it swung shut, all noise of traffic and night life was shut out completely. Apparently, Mrs. Hudson's greenhouse garden was soundproofed. The garden was a paradise for bees, flowers literally filled almost every square foot of the room. They were everywhere, growing calmly in pots or sweeping across the walls and roof of the room. The colours were bright, yet so comforting. Greens, oranges, yellows, reds, purples and blues greeted her side everywhere she turned. Looking around, she realised just how big the greenhouse actually was. 221 Baker Street stretched far back into an alley, so even though the width of the garden paradise was significantly narrow, it stretched on seemingly forever, and it's height was at least a good ten feet. She couldn't help but giggle when she thought of this as a scene from a sappy romance novel. She giggled and grinned even more when she realised that she was the heroine, and the man she had been in love with for the past few years was the sexy hero all women would've died for.

"Is anything the matter?" Sherlock asked, at her side, giving her a slightly worried glance. Molly smiled softly up at him.  
"Of course not. We've barely started and-" Molly broke off, once again in disbelief that she was in a beautiful, private garden, on a date, with Sherlock-bloody-Holmes. I have to be dreaming. She clutched tighter to his arm, just to be sure.  
"I assure you, this is not a dream." Sherlock grinned at her, chucking lowly. Molly glanced at him with surprise. Since when was he telepathic?  
"You said your thoughts out loud Molly." he said plainly. A blush immediately erupted over the pathologists cheeks. Since when do I speak aloud? Her embarrassment was forgotten however, when Sherlock stopped them, in the centre of the beautiful secret garden.  
A small, round white table-clothed table was laid out, with two covered plates on placemats across each other on it. A small candle sat in the middle of the table, already lit and melting. It was scented, Molly realised as she took in a much needed gulp of air. Ember...thank god it isn't Lavender.  
"Ah yes, the candle. I was thinking of Lavender, but it was horribly cliche, and while I do know that a candlelit dinner is cliche, I wanted to at least make sure the smells weren't, so as to not bore you. Besides, Lavender is a ghastly scent." he said drawled plainly, smirking his usual smirk.  
"Sherlock, I don't think anyone I've ever known has had a man who took them to a beautiful, almost secret garden, for a private dinner surrounded by beautiful flowers. Trust me, it is well beyond cliche, and while I wouldn't have minded something like dinner and a rom-com, this is absolutely...I wouldn't trade it in for the world. And yes, Lavender is disgusting. Ember is actually my favourite scent, but it isn't very well-known." Sherlock raised an eyebrow and smirked.  
"Well then Molly, we have something in common, it seems."  
Molly allowed herself to be walked to over to the table, where the man pulled her chair out for her and seated her before attending to himself. Molly was beginning to feel very light headed from all the chivalrous actions. Dammit Molly, control yourself! But then again, he's already so bloody smart and gorgeous and drop dead sexy, why does he have to be a gentleman too? Oh screw this, he's a gentleman for me. Oh god...I'm on a date with Sherlock Holmes. I am. On a DATE. With- okay Molly breathe.  
Listening to her advice, for once, Molly took in a few calming breaths before looking up at Sherlock, who was staring back at her with an expression of very, very sexy amusement on his face. Molly really had to take the word 'sexy' and throw it out of her vocabulary. At least when she was in front of Sherlock. oh dear god no.  
"Did I say anything out loud?"  
"This time, only the first bit, and you then trailed off; of course, I could tell what you were thinking after. Why, is it a problem?"  
"Oh lord- how much did you hear?"  
"Enough to know that according to women, I am 'drop dead sexy'," he grinned "let's get started then shall we?"

Sherlock reached over to uncover the plates, widening the gap in his suit, leaving Molly staring greedily at his chest, covered by the form fitting marine blue shirt. Her eyes trailed over the sharp angles of his alabaster face, taking in the planes of his cheekbones, the shadows they made on his cheeks, the swirling colours of his psychedelic eyes. It was a while before she tore her gaze away, but it unfortunately locked itself on the curve of the pink Cupid's bow lips she loved so much. She almost gasped when the corner of those so very delectable lips twitched upwards into a very sexy smirk. Damn it, Molls, no more using the word 'sexy'!  
"Seen enough?" he asked, his eyes twinkling at her.  
oh god, he caught me totally perving him with my eyes thought Molly, mortified.  
"Obviously." he said. He caught the expression on her face and rolled his eyes "You spoke aloud unintentionally again Molly. A new sign of your nervousness. I always knew there were a few things I never picked up."  
Molly looked down, embarrassed but gasped (again- another annoyingly feminine thing she had to stop doing) as she saw the dish in front of her. Sat on her plate was a mound of perfectly (well, it looked perfect) cooked spaghetti surrounded with bits of scallop, squid and other assortments of freshly done seaweed and vegetables.  
"Sherlock, did you-did you cook this yourself?"  
"Yes, I did. Its not perfect, but I did follow a recipe and cooking is merely a form of chemistry with timing, besides- "  
"Sherlock, its perfect." Molly cut him off, grinning at him warmly.  
Sherlock smiled- not smirked, smiled- in reply and gestured at the food in front of him, "Bon appetite." he said softly, making Molly shiver involuntarily at his deep baritone.  
She took her first bite.  
Holy crap.  
She moaned. Out loud. Sherlock glanced up, amused.  
"I can presume that you like it then."  
"Sherlock, how do you not eat when you cook so, so-" she struggled trying to find a word that could describe his amazing culinary skills.  
"Good?" he offered.  
"More than, Sherlock. This is- this is amazing!" she said.  
"Glad to know it is to your expectations have been met." he said, once again smiling, involuntarily (or maybe voluntarily) sending another course of tingles down her spine.  
They settled into a comfortable conversation between bites, talking about past cases and familiar places.

Towards the end of the meal, the conversation quietened to the small clanks of cutlery against plates as the two enjoyed their food. The pathologist spent most of her time watching the detective eat. He was undeniably brought up with amazing table manners. Besides, it was good to see him eat- it usually worried Molly when he'd walk into her morgue after a three day case looking like a handsome skeleton. Molly picked up her napkin and dabbed the end of her mouth when she finished, before setting it down, with the intention to restart the conversation. He eyes widened in surprise when she realised that the seat was empty. Her heart immediately thumped painfully as her brain began looking through the worst case scenarios.  
Was I boring?  
Does he not like me anymore? Did I do something wrong? Oh god, he probably came to his senses and-

A loud clearing of the throat cut through her daze of self pity and panic. Sherlock was beside her, extending a pale, graceful hand towards her. He was smirking softly at her.  
"Your facial expressions made it clear of your panic, but, Molly, as I have said before, my...uh..." his smirk faltered as he said the next word before coming back into place "feelings for you are, well, stronger than I'd  
like to imagine, so you have to understand that-" he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her blushing face and whispered "I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon. Unless, of course, you want me to." he leaned back up, smirking confidently at Molly's blushing face. He offered his hand once again, in a silent request for her to follow him. In a slight daze, Molly complied, and allowed herself to be whisked off by the ravishing detective.

They walked through the garden, hand in hand, for quite some time, enjoying the floral aroma of the many flowers and plants that surrounded them. The couple strolled in companionable silence, save for the few times Sherlock would explain an origin, or history of some of the plants. Molly leaned her head against his defined bicep, feeling and hearing his baritone resonate through his body.  
"I never thought you would bother learning, or even remembering anything botanical." Molly commented after a while. Sherlock looked down at her.  
"A case, three years back- woman who killed her victims at her flower store with poisons made from plants. I had to research." he said shrugging.  
"But why not delete everything after?"  
"You really enjoy asking questions when you aren't scared of me, aren't you?" he retorted, not tearing his gaze from her. Molly reddened again.  
"Sorry I-"  
"I find this side of you more enjoyable. Not so boring. I decided they would be of some importance- for example, the bouquet I bought for you today."  
"Oh! I left it at the table! We should-"  
"It's alright, we're going to back that way once the night is out anyway. Besides it isn't that far back." Molly nodded at the logic and smiled. She looked back out in front of her and gasped.

They were now in a small clearing, a small table with flutes and a bottle of champagne stood on it with a small stereo next to it. Sherlock walked up taking the flutes, handing one to Molly before sipping his own. Again, Molly let her mind wander around. It was attracted to the stereo that stood on the table. Stereos maent music, and music meant-  
Dance. Uh oh.  
"Sherlock, I-I-I don't, I don't dance," she stammered softly, looking up at Sherlock. He raise an eyebrow at her.  
"Do you really think I didn't know that?" he said, walking closer, until they were barely a finger's width apart. He took her empty flute and placed it and his own back on the table before hitting a button on the stereo. Soft, dance-like music flowed through the speakers, diffusing through the room. He walked up to her again, and looked down into her eyes.  
"Don't worry," he said softly, getting down on his knees. Molly looked incredulously. She watched in slight wonder as the detective unclasped the buckles on her boots, before looking up and silently asking her to take her feet out. Once bare-foot, Sherlock rose back up, after gently placing her shoes to the side, and dug his dress shoes under her feet. Being on his shoes forced their bodies close- close enough to feel each other's body heat radiating away. Once again, Sherlock leaned into the shell of Molly's ear.  
"I won't let you fall."  
He took her hands in his and moved them so that they gripped his waist. He let go and moved to do he same to her hips. He watched her as he took a small step forwards. She seemed to be scared, because she let out a small shreik and buried herself closer into him. Sherlock grinned softly, and held on tighter. There was a small gap between them that allowed him to see her expressions as she concentrated on not making a fool out of herself.  
He didn't understand how he ever missed the was her brow furrowed softly, and the way she bit her lower lip when she was in quiet concentration. As he slowly spun both of them, her teeth lost their grip, and the bruised lip bounced out, now redder, and ever so slightly fuller. She didn't have thin lips for sure, but did it really matter?  
No. he decided. Sherlock watched her hair rustle about softly, landing in front of her body, directly at the dip in her neckline, at the foot of her breasts. They set off a dark red hue in the dim lighting. She glanced up slightly, a look of curiosity and nervousness in her deep brown eyes. They weren't multicoloured, no hints of greens, greys or blues, but they held a deep light; a kindness, understanding and softness that caused something in Sherlock to tug painfully. As they looked at each other, Sherlock slowly came to terms that his feelings for Molly were definitely there to stay.  
He smiled down at her at the thought. It was good, he decided, to not be in denial. Molly softly smiled back, and turned her head back down.  
And so they danced. Well, technically, Sherlock took easy dance steps around the room with small graceful moves, while Molly rested her head against his chest, right above his heart, listening to the organ the detective was supposedly supposed to lack beat in time with his movements and the song that was playing in the dim background.  
Her mind barely comprehended thoughts and logic as she took in his scent and the feel of his body in general. It was slightly scary that she felt so at home in the arms of the 'apparently' asexual man, but it was such a good feeling. She knew she wouldn't trade it for the world. Her face turned to nuzzle into the gap of his dress coat, where she felt the soft cotton of his shirt. She was surprised; Molly always though Sherlock to be the silk or satin type. Molly once again inhaled the scent of Sherlock's soft cologne mixed with the scent of him himself.  
Her hands wound up at the elbows, trailing up his back to rest on the insides of his shoulder blades. Once again, she let the side of her head rest against his hard chest and glanced lazily around the room, taking in the colours and beauty. Beauty that would never match the man above her, but beauty nonetheless. Sherlock, who was glancing ahead initially, was now staring at the woman underneath him. Who would've thought I'd be dancing with Sherlock Holmes? Molly traced absent minded shapes and lines with her fingers, feeling the muscles that rippled beneath the shirt and skin.  
After a while, Molly felt his hands, which were previously against the dip of the curve in her spine, slide lower to rest directly above her bum. She glanced up at him, to be taken aback by the soft, rather than piercing, gaze he was giving her. It was a split second change, but she caught it anyway- the soft content smile on his face and the...adoration? love? in his eyes. But then, it was back to the usual confident stare and grin. She had to admit, though, he looked so beautiful when he was soft like that.  
"I think you'll be able to dance by yourself now," he said, before effortlessly picking her up by her waist and placing her on the floor directly in front of his shoes. Molly, nodded, lost for words and reached up to lace an arm around his long neck. Sherlock enveloped her right hand in his left and wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling the slightly giddy pathologist closer.  
"Just relax Molly, relax your muscles." he soothed. Molly's once tensed body immediately liquified, and once again, the couple spun around the area of the room. This time Sherlock spun her around and lifted her a few times, causing Molly to laugh and gasp as she was thrown and spun. The times in between the small tricks were spent in romantic silence. Each took turns staring at the other when the other wasn't looking, not being able to get enough. Molly couldn't rest her head again on him, and surprisingly, both were slightly uncomfortable from the loss of body contact. After one very exhausting and dizzying spin, Sherlock finally drew her in close to his chest, allowing her to once again listen to his heart beat. They waltzed around contently for a while- Molly listening to Sherlock's heartbeat with her hands laced behind his neck, her fingers playing with his black locks; Sherlock had one hand fanned, almost protectively over her lower back, the other playing with the ends of Molly's now very mused wavy hair while he rested his chin on the soft top of her head. Both listened as the new song playing reached it's climactic ending. Sherlock pulled back and grinned down and her.  
"Whatever you do, don't let go. Understand?"  
"Wha-?" Molly barely got her reply out before she found the world spinning around her again; she felt herself fall to the ground.  
She gripped her clasped wrists tighter behind Sherlock's neck as she let out a small scream of surprise when Sherlock caught her waist as he dipped her. The ends of her hair was rested softly against the ground as she looked up, shocked and blushing, at Sherlock's grinning face. Both arms were laced around her body and his curls were now rested around his face. She let out a soft laugh, as she let her breathing calm, before smiling contentedly and raising her arm to brush away a stray curl that was resting over his forehead.  
The silence was calm, save for the panting from the couple. He brought her back up to a standing position, but they still had their arms around each other, their bodies almost flush against each other.

Molly was stunned by how romantic and thoughtful this was, dancing in the moonlight in a garden on a roof, overlooking the city. Raising her head, she opened her mouth slightly to tell him, but he merely shook his head, eyes twinkling. Judging by his intelligence, he already 'read her mind', unless she spoke out loud again.  
She looked into his eyes, taking in the swirling greys they were now. She could see tints of blue in the outer part of the irises and was surprised to see that the ring was gradually getting thinner and thinner. She vaguely saw that the miniscule gap between them was narrowing considerably as they grew closer and closer. Their lips were a mere inch apart and Molly could hear, feel and taste his erratic breathing mingling with hers. She would just have to move up an inch and she'd-  
Sherlock pulled away, smirking to hide the obvious increase in heart rate and pupil dilating.

"I would love to continue what we are doing now, but, I still have one more thing to show you." Molly groaned, earning a slight chuckle from Sherlock as she was dragged through the rest of the garden and out the back door. The cold air instantly hit her and she shivered, but she was immediately blanketed on warmth as Sherlock wrapped his dress coat around her small frame. She slipped her hands through the sleeves and smiled softly up at him as he moved to stand behind her. She moved forwards, past the small jungle of plants, to the bare area of the roof. She walked into the space and leaned against the metal rails that stood at the end of it, protecting any clumsy visitors from a very far fall. Sherlock leaned forward, his stomach resting softly against her slightly protruding hip and bum and chest touching her back as his large hands came around from either side, enveloping Molly's from the cold on the rails.

The alley behind 221 Baker Street was old, smelly, dark and possibly very dangerous. Beyond that merely lay the not-so-pleasing view of factories, offices and condominiums built tall and firm next to rotting old apartments. So it was of course acceptable when Molly wondered out loud (by accident, of course) why they were out here staring at a quite unpleasant view when the view, and activity she had and was about to carry out, was a lot more satisfying.

The deep rumble of Sherlock's laughter resonated through Molly's body. She mentally slapped herself, hard, when she realised that she once again spoke out her thoughts. Something was really wrong with her that day.  
"Wait and see Molly, I think you'll find this quite interesting to watch." he whispered from behind her.

His arms left her hands, making her disappointed at the loss, before snaking them around her waist as they faced the sky together. Suddenly, a searing noise rocketed through the night and exploded in the sky, red and purple sparks flying everywhere. Her eyes widened impossibly.  
No way. Her thoughts were confirmed as another firework soared through sky, exploding, this time in a shower of greens and golds.  
"How?" She asked, turning as another, blue this time, burst, illuminating the angles of Sherlock's face, and lighting up the colours in his eyes.  
"When you are the only person in this world capable of seeing things others refuse too, many people owe you many favours. In this case, the manager of the construction going on in that abandoned building a few streets down."  
Molly laughed excitedly when she saw another burst of light before turning back to Sherlock.  
"You are the most brilliant and amazing man I have ever met, Sherlock Holmes."  
"One has to be when the woman he is trying to impress deserves as much." he smiled down softly at Molly before turning back to the now very much lighted sky. Molly turned her head to look back and felt Sherlock nuzzle his chin onto the crook at the base of her neck. Smiling, she cocked her head to the left, leaning her head against his.  
"Trust me Sherlock, I don't know about the deserving bit, but you've definitely impressed me."  
"Molly Hooper, you deserve so much more than this- do not let anyone speak otherwise."  
Astounded by the firmness in which he spoke his words, she turned around into the circle of his embrace. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. Again. Lips curving upwards, he whispered, "Molly, I am going to deduce you, is that alright?" Molly cocked her head slightly in confusion but nodded.  
"Well let's see- eyes dilated" he said in mock seriousness, face inching closer "pulse increasing," he brought his hand up as he pressed his long fingers against the fluttering pulse point on her neck. Another firework exploded behind them, causing Molly to giggle.  
"How many of those are there?" she asked.  
"I don't know, I didn't count." Molly laughed at his answer.  
"Okay then, finish your deduction- what is your conclusion?"  
"My conclusion is that you, Molly Hooper, are aroused. Either by me, or, obviously, the fireworks- but I'd like to entertain the thought that the answer is, in fact, the former." he murmured, lips a hair's breadth away. They stood there, so close but too far, staring at each other in silence. They could feel the slight touch of each other's lips against their own, and it certainly wasn't enough. The deafening roar behind them fell on deaf ears.  
"Molly, is it okay if I kiss you now?" he whispered softly against her ear, before ghosting his lips in a trail to the corner of her mouth, ever so slightly, before pulling away slightly. He looked into her eyes, both waiting for the other to make the move when Molly finally stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his. Sherlock's hands immediately tightened around her waist as Molly slipped her tongue through his lips. Taken aback by her boldness, Sherlock allowed her some minor control before leaning into the kiss and pushing her against the metal rails of the rooftop, but cradling her back from the hit with his arm. His free hand rose up to tangle around in the hair at the back of her head as he pushed her tongue out of his mouth, before pushing his own after her. She moaned as she felt the detective above her take control. The sound seemed to make the detective even more eager as he pushed down harder on her. As Sherlock dominated her mouth, Molly reached around with her arms- pushing them up and down the length of his back to tangling them in his soft mop of curls. An arm made its way downwards and untucked his shirt. Unknowingly, Molly allowed her hand to trail up the inside of her shirt and she moaned into the kiss as she felt the cool, hard, lean and defined torso. Sherlock groaned above her, the sound vibrating through her body, leaving her more flustered than she already was.

Running out of breath, the couple forced themselves apart. Sherlock reluctantly moved backwards, allowing Molly to stand up straight against the railings. As soon as she was, however, Sherlock moved back towards her, planting another kiss on her lips. It was meant to be a single kiss, but it seemed Molly didn't want it to be. She pushed herself upwards, using the base of the rails as as a step, into the kiss, when a light bursting through her closed eyelids distracted her. She opened her eyes and pulled away, body still facing Sherlock as the last, and grandest set of fireworks exploded brilliantly across the sky, lighting the darkness with bright reds, purples, greens and golds. Molly grinned at the spectacular view, the grin never faulting, even when the last few sparks dwindled of, leaving the night sky clear and silent.

Molly turned back to Sherlock, and kissed him again with every ounce of energy she had left. Molly gasped against the kiss as she was lifted up slightly by Sherlock. She took advantage of being in the air and wrapped her leg around his lean waist. He grunted in surprise but didn't falter as another leg made its way around him. He dominated the kiss completely, taking over the cavern of her mouth and probably filed away all the details it had to offer. Sherlock pulled Molly closer to him, groaning again when he felt her soft chest pressed against his. Molly moaned softly, raking her hands across his perfect skin, leaving small red lines across his neck. They were both running out of air and the last few seconds were the most feral. He ran his tongue against her teeth one last time before pulling back and retiring with one last chaste closed-mouth kiss. Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Molly's, silent while they recuperated and got their heart rates as slow as they possibly could. Both still had their eyes shut. Sherlock cleared his throat and opened his eyes, taking in the flushed Molly.  
"That was-"  
"Shhh, I know." Molly murmured back, eyes still shut. Sherlock smirked at her confidence. Molly was still panting slightly, and Sherlock moved backwards so that she was resting slightly against the railings, to take away some of her weight from his arms. She rested her head against the crook of his neck and felt him breathing against her own. After awhile, she unlaced her legs and Sherlock let go of her arms. Upon reaching the floor, Molly straightened her dress (it had ridden up to almost her hips) and looked up as Sherlock, who was smoothing down his shirt, began to speak.  
"Well, then it is best we get back, my couch, or bed, for that matter, is far more comfortable than that railing over there." Molly laughed, but sobered.  
"Sherlock," she began seriously.  
"You don't want to have sex." he stated plainly. Molly opened her mouth to speak, but he efficiently cut her off.  
"No, don't. I know you don't want to say it because it makes you feel awkward and guilty, though I am not sure why. That's alright- you are a woman with morals, and I understand your refusal to not want to sleep with anyone after only the first date. However, that doesn't mean we couldn't do lesser activities of the same nature until you are ready." He finished, arching an eyebrow.  
"Correct on all accounts. Thank you for understanding, Sherlock." she said softly. He smiled down at her and took her hand.  
"Let's head down to the apartment, shall we? I believe we will have to wait for John and Mary to return, and I can think of a few ways to while away our time."  
Laughing, Molly lead Sherlock back through the back door of the secret garden. Molly collected her shoes and then the bouquet at the dining area a few feet ahead. She took a good look at the flowers.

She recognised the small purple lilacs- not really flowers one would put in a bouquet, but the other flowers were unknown to her. They were small but had wide spanning petals, around five on each. They were all obviously of the same species, but the came in different, contrasting flowers: brilliant reds, pastel pinks, bright oranges and pale yellows. Each had a little antenna like structure sprouting from the middle. The ends were dotted with little yellow balls. If her memory and logic were serving correctly, that's where the pollen was made. For the life of her, she just couldn't tell what species they were.

"Sherlock, these are beautiful, but, what species are they?"  
"Those are Hibiscus. There are generally found in warmer temperatures, so they are rare in London. Before you ask, that isn't the reason why I picked those out of any other type of flower for you."  
"Then why did you pick them?"  
"Every flower has it's meaning, and that's why I got these. No, I am not telling you- that is for you to find out." Sherlock smirked as she groaned.  
"But I hate waiting." she whined.  
"Well, it'll be much more boring for me to tell you anyway. Now let's head back down."  
0o0o0o0o0

Back in 221B, Sherlock and Molly lounged casually on the couch, alternating between chatting, kissing and outright snogging. It was past midnight when John and Mary returned to the flat to see the two cuddled against the sofa, conversing quietly.

"Don't tease him about this. Then he'll stop whatever he's doing and Molly'll be sad. And if Molly's sad, I'll blame it on you. Understood?" Mary asked sternly.  
"Yes ma'am." John mocked, fake saluting. He pecked his official-as-of-that-night girlfriend on the lips and walked off to his room. Mary smiled, and fired a silent text to Molly, before quietly leaving the room.  
00o0o0o0o0o

"Oh, Mary's downstairs, I have to get going." Molly said as she read her message. Sherlock groaned inwardly. He didn't want her to go! Reluctantly, he stood up and followed Molly to the door. She shed off his dress coat and grabbed her own. Putting it on, she turned around to face him.  
"Sherlock, I had my doubts on your intentions and if this was even going to work at first, but this turned out to be such a wonderful evening. I've never, in my life, had a man treat me in the way you had and every single part was beautiful and amaz-" she was cut of as Sherlock leaned down planting his lips on hers. She wrapped her arms loosely around his waist as he placed his around her small neck. It was a close-mouth chaste kiss. Breaking away, he looked at her, eyes glittering madly with mirth.  
"You're rambling again Molly."  
"Thank you for the best evening I've had since I was a child, Sherlock." she said.  
"That's better." he said. Molly wrapping her arms softly around him. Something in his chest tugged painfully in him. He did the same, allowing himself to fall into the embrace.  
"I wouldn't have been able to do it without the help of my new found niece and nephew. Thank them too." he muttered into her hair. He kissed her on the lips before she left and shut the door behind her. The detective sat on the couch to journey back to his Mind Palace. As a young adult, he swore to himself that he would never care, never love, that all emotion and feelings were a weakness and that there was no place for them he was to do what he was doing now.

But then, he realised that he was allowing them back into his life, slowly. From his protectiveness over John, his friendly tolerance with Lestrade, his motherly affection towards Mrs. Hudson, and of course, his new found, undecided feelings for Molly.

What did he feel for Molly? It wasn't love. It couldn't be love. To love was to destroy. Yet he knew that it was getting there, and it was getting there fast.

He sat for a while longer, trying to decide. His final conclusion was as such:  
Emotions and feelings, if controlled, mutual, not for a lost cause and not too extreme could be used as an advantage socially and perhaps mentally. Feelings can only be used in private and social situations, but never professionally.

Confident with his answer, Sherlock closed the door to the growing room marked as 'feelings', and walked out of the psychological wing of the palace. Walking outwards, he turned into the 'living' wing, into the 'human' floor. Keeping to the 'not-annoying' side of corridor, he searched for the door marked 'Molly Hooper'. Once an old tattered spare room with only factual information, it was now a brightly coloured space, full of different, random, and sometimes even irrelevant information about the young pathologist. He sat down in the middle of the floor, and began filling the ever-growing space with the latest memories and facts of the past events of the day.  
0o0o0o0o0o00  
At home, dressed in her pyjamas on her bed, Molly switched on her laptop. She got home high and ecstatic. Mary had forced her to spill every last detail and both squealed in delight at the last bits. Molly looked over to Mary, who was now asleep next to her (Molly refused to allow her best friend to walk home alone at this hour in London) and smiled. She'd promise to tell her everything about her date with John the next day. Before turning back to the computer, she checked through her nightly list. Brushing teeth, check. Switching of lights, check. Slippers by bed, check. Clothes for tomo- wait, it's Sunday tomorrow! Feeding Toby, check. Satisfied, she turned back to the webpage she'd just clicked on. She read the list of flowers on the website.  
**Hibiscus** she found. Clicking on the link, she read the paragraph dedicated to the flower:  
**In the Victorian Era, Hibiscus were passed around for the use of one meaning only, and it is still used today. To receive a Hibiscus flower from someone is a symbol showing that that person believes you to be a Delicate Beauty. The meaning comes from its bright colours and...**  
Molly stopped reading past that, her eyes staring at the phrase. Sherlock thinks I'm a delicate beauty? Grinning happily, Molly went back and found the link that said **Lilac**.

**In Greek Mythology, the god Pan was captivated by the beauty of the forest nymph, Syringa- the lilac's botanical name. Frightened by him when he chased her through the forest she lived in, Syringa turned herself into the aromatic bush with the flowers we know as lilacs. In the language of flowers, the white lilac means youthful innocence...**

Molly read the next bit and froze in shock and disbelief. She knew Sherlock wouldn't lie to her. He wasn't that cruel- but maybe it was a misunderstanding on his part, but then again- he's Sherlock Holmes. But that would make Molly...  
Shaking her head, Molly switched of her laptop and set it on her bed stand before switching of her lamp. In the darkness, Molly cleared her head. She was not going to keep awake all night. Turning around and closing her eyes, she taught back through the events of the night. For now, she would deal with the sweet dreams of Sherlock and his sexy smirk and his searing kisses. Tomorrow, she would deal with the new information. However, the last coherent thought Molly had that night, was the meaning of purple lilacs in flower language:**  
To give a purple lilac is to show the receiver that he/she is a first love.**

**YAY! so I hope this date wasn't to boring for you guys, or to dull, or cliche, or whatever...I seriously hope it was an ok chapter though- my first time writing an actual sappy, romance-y, fluffy, chick flick, rom-com, sorta thing, so I hope for a first try I didn't burn it to the ground. But I have to say, when me editor (Grace- who helped me sooo much, thank you! I 3 you so much!) read the last bit, I think she either started laughing or got really angry because it was a cliffy, i dunno.**

**Anyway, enough rambling- hope you liked it. If you did- review?**

**If you didn't- flame me with your virtual flamethrowers; I'm an open goal!**

**The point is, Ash really loves reviews...**

**So review?**

**Hehe, thanks,**

**-Ash :)**


	15. Next Steps

**WHEW 20 reviews for a date! Thanks guys so much! Shoutouts!**

**magicstrikes: thank you so much for the lovely review- it made my day. And who wouldn't want a date with Sherlock Holmes?**

**Rocking the Redhead: Nawww thank you- nice to know my attempts at humour is not futile. I'm sorry about that- but then again, fiction is usually perfect, and the real world really isn't **

**Yukkin: Ohhhh Bling, the days we spend gossiping about our, well my, fantasies with the smexy Sherlock Holmes. Okay, I will :D**

**patemalah21: Perfect? Thank you so much! To tell you the truth, I've been imagining that garden since the first episode…now I finally got to write all about it **

**CreamCrop: haha, thank you. Don't worry, there's loads more Sherlolly to come.**

**MorbidbyDefault: Nawwwwwwwww thank you so MUCH! Aww don't worry- I haven't been on a date either, so yes, yes you can have this one ;) thanks again, hope this chapter won't be too much of a let down.**

**shepweir always: Reading you reviews always make me smile, but this one almost brought tears to my eyes. I was a bit nervous even posting this up, but I guess there was no reason to be. A romance novel author? I've been thinking about it, but my English teacher has other comments against it. The last sentence of your review meant the most to me- "You are now my favourite Sherlolly author." Did you mean it? If you did, I thank so so much, from the bottom of my heart. I sincerely hope this chapter won't be to much of a drag compared to the last one.**

**Mariel221B: thank you so much. Thank god about the believable Sherlock emotions part! Hope you enjoy this chapter**

**Guest: You have my permission to love me ;) haha, thank you so so much. Enjoy this next chapter!**

**Potentiallylovely: haha, thank you so much. Really. Well, I do have a John/Mary outing somewhere down there- hope you enjoy!**

**LaserGirl77: Than you, Minerva, seriously. You've been a butt-load of help! Kill Enola? I wouldn't want anyone to go to jail, but I do have the siblings, and a touch of Sherlolly sooooo….enjoy! OH, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D**

**AdaYuki: Thank you for the review, enjoy this update!**

**Empress of Verace: thank you so much. Yes. Well, he is very very brilliant, I'm sure a brilliant date wouldn't have been to hard to handle :D enjoy!**

**CompanionToMisterHolmes: Awww thank you- and I must say, your username is something I dream to be. ;)**

**Ninuska: Thank you so much, hope you've enjoyed reading so far, here's the next update!**

**travellady77: Awww thank you, hope you enjoy this update!**

**booklover669: Thank you. More like Sherlock? I guess that would be hard to do seeing that he's in a date, but I'll try incorporating that in my next chapters. Thank you, enjoy the next chapter!**

**coloradoandcolorado1: Thank you. Enjoy ****!**

**Troubleswithtribbles: OH WOW THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH! HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER! :DD**

**Scarves-and-trench-coats: thank you so much. Hopefully I will keep writing AWESOME shiz **

**Disclaimer: Do I own Sherlock? haha well I'll give you the same answer of you asked me if my husband is Benedict Cumberbatch. Mr. Cumberbatch, if your lovely eyes ever grace this measly fiction, know that I am PROUD to be a giggling fangirl to you (much like many of us on this fandom…whether the admit it or not.) But yeah…the answer is no…**

**Enjoy, or not, up to you!**

Molly stepped out of the black cab, paying the young cabbie quickly before walking up the stone pavement. She reached the gate, and stepping past it onto the small garden, her smile widened into a grin as a small body hurtled towards her. She bent down, kneeling and spread her arms wide open as a sandy head crashed into her arms.

"Hey there, Micah!" Molly smiled hugging her youngest nephew. The blonde head raised to reveal a pair of startling blue eyes. The little boy grinned widely, proudly showing the gap in his teeth.

"Look Auntie! I lost my tooth!" he spluttered, jabbing his small finger in the space the front tooth was meant to be. Molly chuckled slightly before brightening her face even more.

"Wow!" she gushed "my little boy is now a little man isn't he?" Micah laughed before crashing himself back into his aunt. She picked him up, holding him against herself, before walking into the open door.

"Micah! Micah, where are you? Mic-oh" Molly laughed as she set down the apparently missing boy. She looked back up at her brother.

"Lost your son?" Matt smiled.

"Hey little sister," he said, hugging her.

"What's for breakfast?" she asked, walking into the kitchen.

Her other nephew and only niece greeted her through half-lidded tired eyes as they shoveled mutilated pieces of pancake into their mouths. She ruffled their hair before grabbing a juice box from the fridge.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" her brother asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Obviously not, dad" his daughter muttered irritably. "Her hair's still slightly damp- she's just taken a bath."

"Which means she woke up late." her brother continued, before yawning. "her clothes are casual, obviously the first things she picked up."

"Right on all accounts," Molly smiled "not quite the morning people are you?" she asked, earning herself half-hearted glares. She raised her hands in a mock signal of surrender before settling down.

"My first day in forever without a list, unless of course something happens." she said before lounging on one of the stools.

"Mia's off at work then?"

"When isn't she?" Rachel grumpily answered, before pushing away her plate and landing her head on the table with a thump.

"She isn't this much of an ogre in the morning is she?" Molly asked, as Micah charged into the kitchen before scrambling onto Molly's lap.

"She was up painting again last night and Enola'll be here any minute to pick 'em up. I swear bedtime's gonna be reduced down to ten p.m every night soon." Molly laughed.

"Well, we got one hyperactive little boy and two groaning teenagers. Matt, remember the time when we were them?" Matt laughed, nodding.

"Back when the world was young." Rachel grumbled to the table. Molly rolled her eyes silently at the comment before reaching for her juice box. That's when she realised Micah was a little thief.

"Matt. Coffee." she called out, receiving the mug a few minutes later.

"Your son is becoming quite the snatcher."

"That doesn't even cut it- he stole my ice cream two nights ago."

She sipped her coffee, trying not to spill any of the scalding liquid on the very hyper child. Giving up, she set the mug down, before reaching for her phone, sending off a text to Mary for a lunch date.

"Molls, keep an eye on Mikey?" Molly nodded as a yes as Matt stepped out of the kitchen. Charlie and Rachel remained static in their seats. Suddenly, Micah leapt off of her, running out of the room to the direction of the front door. Groaning, Molly stood up and stretched.

"Gonna come help me look for your brother?"

"Later." muttered Charlie.

"Under the car." his sister mumbled. Sighing, Molly left the room. She found Micah scrambling at the doorknob, trying to open the door. Molly squatted, sighing again, after hiking up her denim shorts (she knew she should've worn a belt) and grabbing him from behind. Skillfully twisting him around, she held as she did earlier and looked sternly at him.

"Micah, what have I told you about answering the door to anybody without us there?" She watched his face turn apologetic.

"Sowie Auntie." he muttered, burying himself in her neck. She felt him play with the neck of her gray, plain cotton blouse. The doorbell rang. Molly reached out and answered the door.

"Hey Enola."

000oo0o0o0

Molly groaned when Micah escaped her grip and ran away. She told Enola to make herself comfortable in the kitchen where the other two were as she searched for the hyperactive child.

Five long minutes later, Molly trudged into the kitchen, heaving Micah onto the counter. He immediately conjured tears into his wide eyes.

"Put me down Aunt Molly! Put me _down_!" he cried out. Molly frowned at him.

"Not until you think about what you've done. You don't want me telling Mummy, do you?" she asked, frowning.

Micah hastily swivelled on his seat to face the wall and think about his wrong-doings.

Satisfied, Molly turned around and stifled a very surprised gasp as her gaze fell on the man seated on her previous spot.

"Sherlock?"

0o0o0o0o0

The detective had to smirk at her obliviousness. He also had to admit that she looked very different in her casual attire. Very relaxed, very attractive, very se-

_Shut it._

Sherlock cleared his throat, raising his eyebrow.

"Molly." he greeted. He didn't miss the look his sister gave them. He hadn't missed any of them.

"Molly, Hi!" He heard her say, before watching Enola stand up and embrace the small pathologist. They dropped into casual conversation; Sherlock trained his eyes on more interesting things.

"They won't notice. I know you aren't asleep." he muttered, leaning back in his chair. Rachel turned her head to the side and opened an eye. Her brother remained motionless but his now perked position didn't go unannounced to the observant man. To anyone else, the two children had a very late night.

"Okay, now shhhhh." Rachel muttered. "I'm trying to listen."

"To what?"

"You wouldn't be asking if you didn't already know." Charlie mumbled 'sleepily'. Sherlock smirked. _These children are smart._

"Humour me." he announced rather loudly. He received a very unladylike kick under the table.

"How do you not see that Enola is obviously making Aunt Molly uncomfortable about being in a relationship with you? And be quiet, our cover was fine until you tried to blow it!"

"I do see." he said calmly.

Rachel's head flew up in time with her brothers. One of them were about to speak, when the two women turned around. Both children slouched.

"Ahhhh the little kiddies are awake." Enola smiled.

"Okay, you two, enough sleeping. Let's get you upstairs and changed." Molly said, shooing them out of their chairs.

Sherlock smirked as he caught Rachel's last fleeting glare.

Their conversation was not over.

0o0o0o00o0o

"So." Enola started when the children had left. "I heard you two went on a little rooftop date." the woman smirked when she saw her brother's eyes narrow. It widened when she saw Molly's blush appear.

"Why are you asking such stupid questions Enola?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, Sher, I'm just playing with you." she said teasingly. Molly's blush deepened further.

"He wasn't awkward, was he?" she asked. She watched with amusement as Molly's eyes flitted between the siblings.

"Of course not." she replied. Enola laughed. _Time to pull out the big ones_.

"Oh, I'm sure he wasn't. He has the confidence of a lion. I swear, one would need one with some of the women he...had. All blonde, all beautiful, all-"

"_Enola_. Let the past, be the _past_." Sherlock muttered. She smiled inwardly.

"Hey, Sherlock, no need to get touchy. I'm your sister- it's my job to revive all your embarrassing moments." she turned to Molly. "You know, once, back when I came back from Uni on Easter, I walked into Sherlock's room and you should've heard the noises him and his little, _latest_ partner were making it was-"

"_Enola_. Shut. Up." Sherlock seethed. She turned back to Molly, who had somehow controlled her blush. It was barely a tinge of pink anymore. She watched as the pathologist grabbed a full coffee cup from the table and take a sip out of it.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain I'm making them sound like prostitutes or hookers. They weren't I assure you. My brother, _usually_, has excellent and _appropriate_ taste. They were beautiful, yes, with model's bodies and everything, but they were no airheads, definitely not. Quite the brainiacs, they were."

"Enola. Sherlock." Matt greeted as he reentered the kitchen. He hugged her tightly, before moving on to shake Sherlock's hand. He was oblivious to the fog of tension in the air.

"Coffee anyone?" Enola shook her head, smiling sweetly. Sherlock nodded slightly. Matt nodded in response and turned around towards the counter.

"Molly, where's mine?"

"Drank it." she called out. Enola watched as she got up and walked towards Matt.

"You hate white coffee!" he whined. "What happened to yours? You only ever take it black with sugar." Molly shrugged

"Yes, well, I was thirsty and I finished mine. Look I'll make you another one." she said before grabbing mugs with jars of sugar and coffee. Matthew reappeared after a while.

"Molly's making the drinks. So-" he started, unsure. Enola frowned slightly. She hated that after everything they had been through together, he found it awkward to talk to her. They had been together for over two years- why would he feel so weird and formal?

Enola managed to start off an awkward conversation consisting of small talk and other useless topics. Sherlock abruptly stood up.

"Where're you going?" she asked, curious. She didn't like the glare he was giving her.

"Coffee's taking a while. I'll go help."

"She's just gone Sherlock-"

"I'm sure there are things you two can find to discuss amongst yourselves without my help. Excuse me." he muttered, before sweeping into the wet kitchen."

0o0o0o0o

Molly yelped when she turned around to almost crashed into Sherlock's chest. He smirked above her.

"Sherlock I am-"

"No need to apologise. Here let me help." he said, taking the cup she was holding precariously. He smirked as she stood in stunned silence.

"I said I would help, not do the work _for_ you."

"Oh god, I am sorry." she said before helping. They worked side by side in silence until Molly placed the last cup on the tray. She turned to him.

"Sherlock, why are you helping me?" she asked, cocking her head. Sherlock couldn't help noticing how endearing she was when she did that.

"Because you were taking ages." Molly snorted.

"My arse. I was in here for about thirty seconds."

"Thirty seconds too long." he said. Molly raised her eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I _mean_ you were gone for too long." he repeated, his voice lower than his already deep baritone; he spoke softly and slowly, as if explaining rules to a child, before stepping closer to her and planting his lips on hers.

_What the hell am I doing?_ Sherlock thought as his body betrayed his mind and wrapped his fingers around her hips to bring her closer. He was about to pull away but Molly's hands riding up his chest to his neck changed his mind. He effortlessly lifted her up and seated her on the counter, pushing away the tray of drinks. He deftly parted her legs and stepped in between, causing Molly to moan softly into him. He wrapped his palms around her neck, allowing his fingers to thread themselves into her soft waves of hair. His thumbs stroked her cheeks softly as her fingers moved across his face, tracing his cheekbones. They pulled away for much needed oxygen, keeping their hands where they were, their close proximity never distanced. They stared at each other for a while, panting. Sherlock's mind immediately repaired itself.

_What am I doing? I haven't performed any form of sexual activities with any further feelings for the partner since Uni. What am I doing? This is no infatuation. What is happening to me?_

His thoughts were disrupted by a soft chuckle. Molly grinned slightly, face flushed, before leaning her forehead against his. He tensed slightly before relaxing into it. He had to admit: it felt quite...nice. Yes. Nice, that was all it was. Nice.

"And I thought the first meeting after a first date, especially one with you, would be awkward." she muttered, laughing softly. Sherlock couldn't help but smile and let out a small chuckle of his own. He helped her down and stepped back as she smoothed down her clothes.

"Come on- we have to get these drinks over to them."

00o0o0o0o0o0o0

Mary rolled around on the bar stool to face away from the long wooden counter. She dropped her clutch on her lap and rested her elbow and back on the polished wood behind her. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, surveying the room as she slowly sipped her colourful cocktail. The heard the sudden rush of London traffic when the door to the pub/restaurant opened and scowled when she recognised the man who had just entered.

Around her, the classy jazz music and sounds of drunk laughter and humourous conversations dimmed along with the already barley glowing lights when the man came into full view. He grinned apologetically at her as he trudged up to her.

The doctor had to admit, in the smart shoes, light shirt and dark pants, and his sparkling baby blues partnered with his short, tousled blonde hair, John Watson was, to say the least, ravishing. Her annoyance almost dissipated.

Well, it already did, but it was not wrong to play along.

"Someone decided to show up." she stated coolly when the man reached her. He looked at her, placing his calloused palms on her bare knees.

"Sorry hun, I got caught up with Sherlock." Mary snorted.

"Honestly, I'd say you were dating him."

"Well then, that'd mean that the two of us are cheating on you and Molly, am I right?" Mary laughed.

"You wouldn't dare." she muttered. John chuckled before settling down on the stool next to.

She almost whined at the loss of his hands on her legs.

Both turned to face each other. The bartender arrived asking for an order, to which John replied a beer. Or wine. Mary didn't hear him. Or didn't really care. She was more set on admiring his handsome features, and his broad heavily muscled shoulders, and his-

"-really big mouth."

"I'm sorry what?" Mary asked, jumping slightly in her seat. John smirked slightly.

"I was just talking about Sherlock and his big mouth, but obviously you weren't listening. Am I boring you?" he asked slowly, leaning forwards.

They were mere inches apart when he suddenly pulled back, turning his head to thank, tip and pay the bartender for his drink. She watched as John leaned back, sipping his beer. They drank in silence for awhile, until a waitress came up to them, telling them that a table was waiting for them.

"How did you-"

"Sherlock did a scandal case in this restaurant."

"Ahh. It's nice having a celebrity boyfriends." she said as she leaned into John. The veteran placed an arm on her hip, allowing her to rest her head against his ribs. She could feel the hard muscle underneath rippling with each step and breath he took.

Dinner was simple and filling. They spent most of their time laughing and telling each other stories about life and work. Once done, they paid and left the restaurant.

The cool London air hit Mary instantly and involuntarily shivered. John wordlessly took out his coat and wrapped softly around Mary's shoulder, his fingers lingering on either side of her neck. He gathered her hair in his left palm and pushed it over Mary's left shoulder. She almost protested when the coldness caused goosebumps to rise on her skin but immediately closed her mouth when she felt his lips closing over her pulse point.

It was a small peck, just a tiny romantic gesture from one partner to another, but it really didn't stop the fluttering in her stomach. He pulled away and pulled her closer to him, engulfing her in his warmth. They walked along in comfortable silence for a while. Mary contentedly listened to the older man's soft, steady heart.

They walked past many couples and families on weekend outings, and very many shops and boutiques. John stopped them suddenly at a dainty little flower store, where he picked up a bright red rose and paid the cashier. They walked on.

"A flower for the lady." he said, bending low, while holding the flower up. Mary giggled girlishly, accepting it. She curtsied playfully.

"Why thank you, kind sir." she said, mock formally. He grinned, straightening up. Mary grabbed his shirt in her hands and tugged him closer. He stumbled forwards slightly in surprise. She grinned up at him with twinkling eyes.

He leaned down closing the gap between them. Their lips moved together in sync as John wrapped his hands around her, pulling them close. Mary pulled away when she felt a drop of water fall on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw the already grey sky darkening further.

"Come on it's about to-" she was interrupted by the sudden drizzle of rain.

"Come on!" she cried out, grabbing John's hand and running. Thankfully, her apartment block was not very far away. They reached, panting and out of breath. Mary laughed.

"That was great." she said, pecking John on the cheek. She looked out at the heavy rain, and then at John. He had never actually been in her apartment, and definitely hadn't gone anywhere past snogging. Mary debated quietly for awhile.

"Do you want to wait the rain out in my apartment?" she asked quietly. John smiled, taking her hand.

"Lead the way." he said softly. They walked in, hand by hand, and Mary called out a quick greeting to the landlord, who waved back. The couple rode the lift in silence, Mary leading the way when it stopped on the correct floor. She jumbled around for her keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside. She shed John's coat on her rack and kicked of her shoes.

"I'm going to make us some tea. Make yourself at home- the living room's in there." she said, pointing in the opposite direction she was headed.

A while later found the two sipping tea on the large couch as thunder roared outside.

"It's so heavy today." Mary stated.

"Yeah, I know. Tell me if you have to sleep, especially if you have work, I don't want to intrude."

"No of course not- you can never intrude." Mary said plainly. She set down her empty cup and switched on the telly, leaning against John. They watched random comedies, the recorded laughter filling the room every few seconds.

Mary was barely paying attention. She found her attention set on how the light glow for the screen set of her boyfriends light blue eyes, causing them to sparkle gently. His hair was damp and light brown in the lighting, giving him a younger, boyish look. Mary smiled at how endearing he looked when he silently chuckled and grin at the annoying slapstick jokes. After a while, he seemed to realise he was being watched, and looked down, curiously painted on his features.

"Are you bored? Want to watch something else?" he asked.

"Nope. I found already something look at." she said, grinning mischievously.

"Is that so?" he asked, a smirk replacing the curious half-smile.

"Yes." she whispered softly, before leaning up and placing her lips on his. He immediately pulled her close and onto his lap, giving Mary space to comfortably straddle him. Her hands wound themselves in his hair as his tongue entered her mouth, exploring already visited areas. She moaned softly, causing him to groan underneath her.

The mild fluttering in her stomach flared unconsciously and Mary had to bite back another moan. She ran her hands down his shirt, making fast work with the buttons. Both groaned against each other, breaking apart when Mary's hands finally rested against the tanned flesh.

John looked at her, panting and aroused. Mary leaned forward and kissed him again, running her hands along the hard planes of his abdomen, feeling the hard bumps that were the result of years in the army. She felt his hands snake their way to the hem of her blouse before courageously sliding underneath it. Molly pressed harder into the kiss as John slid his arms up her back. They pulled away at the same time.

She watched John underneath her, panting, chest heaving, eyes dark, and his shirt half open, revealing his hard pectorals and abs. He brought his hand out from under her shirt, cupping her cheek softly. She leaned into it softly.

"We don't have to continue if you don't want to." he said softly. Mary opened her eyes and glanced down at him. She definitely had slept with other men before, but John was much more different. Special. She didn't want to muck it up.

But looking at how lovingly he watched her, and well, how damn sexy his body was, her heart and body were definitely telling her to go through with it. She trailed her eyes back to his face. She looked at him, knowing that he would respect her, no matter what her decision would be. She smiled at how she knew she could trust him so easily. The look on his face told her that he wanted this almost as much as she did. Mary's mind, body and heart argued and debated.

_Screw this two trumps one_ she thought before leaning down and crushing her lips against his as an answer. John immediately began moving, lifting her up. He broke away slightly, silently asking her for directions to a more comfortable room. One with preferably a bed.

"Straight down and to the left." she muttered before nipping his neck. John growled before practically running, with her in his arms, to the said location.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"_TELL ME!_" the teenager screeched, causing the ex-army doctor to rush into the living room of 221B

"Bloody _hell_ Sherlock, what are you_ doing_ to your niece?" he asked exasperated "_Honestly_, even people with the same DNA as you get frustrated." he muttered.

"Oh John, do be quiet." Sherlock said casually, plucking random chords on his violin "I think you have better things to do in your bedroom right now, especially since your head hasn't altered your memories from last night _to _much, yes?" he asked smirking. The two children at his feet furrowed their brows, wincing painfully as they realised his hidden meaning.

"Seriously? With _Mary_?" Rachel shuddered.

"Too. Much Information." her brother agreed, his mop of curls bouncing around as he shook his head. Rachel almost had to laugh when she saw John's face redden considerably, almost the same dark colour of the hideous early Christmas present from some family member (probably a teasing sister). He shoved his hands in his pocket, and made to say something; he thought against it and turned away briskly, muttering darkly under his breath. As soon as the distraction was gone, Rachel swiveled around, eyes glaring darkly.

"Sherlock. Holmes. Tell. Me. _Now_."

"Tell you what, child?"

"I am _not_ a bloody _child!_"

"Language, _Rachel_," the detective mocked.

"Look," Charlie said "We're doing this because we," he said, indicating to himself and his sister "care about Aunt Molly, and right now, Enola is doing _nothing_ but make it awkward for her when it comes to you." Rachel continued "I don't know if you have realised this, but Molly finally managed to make you realise something you have had for so long, and she barely gets to savour it, because _your,_ hopefully, overbearing and protective sister is ruining that. I know you have realised that much, and what I want to know is why you are not doing anything about it." Sherlock's eyes narrowed- he'd never been cornered by a teenager before.

"Fine. She is my sister, someone I have known since her birth. She is one of the few people I am not very quick to judge." he said, before changing topic "now I heard you want to learn how to make a mind palace." both children reluctantly straightened with interest. Rachel caught him smirking, but accepted defeat- it didn't matter. She'd get to him in the end.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a Palace, or a even a building. It should be a place you are comfortable in, even one you would want to create from your own imagination. Just as long as you have significant areas to store your different sets of information." Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She imagined a large empty storehouse, full of colour and artwork. She laid it all out, rows upon rows of empty stores, waiting for information to hold. She quickly coloured everything in to her liking, mostly different shades of green. She opened her eyes.

"Next?" she asked expectantly, looking to her brother who had just finished with his apparently.

"This next part goes on according to how your mind works. In my mind palace, the indoor space has been separated into wings: People, Environmental, Science and General. It is up to you how you want to classify. You may not even want as many or as little as I, or even any four main categories at all. Moving on, in each of my wings I have different floors, the lowest containing the most important and usually the darker information such as secrets and such, the higher usually just trivial nonsense. On each floor I have one or more corridors, each with a room I label to a certain topic. For example, John has his own room on the 'People' wing on the second floor where my closest non-relatives are. Inside, it is furnished how I see fit, and in my case, the information is stored within landmarked object. For example, the gun on the desk signifies his time as an army doctor, and his strengths and weaknesses in combat, etcetera. Do you understand?" he asked, looking down at them. Both nodded before simultaneously closing their eyes beginning work.

Rachel transported herself back into her storehouse. She decided to have the first row of storage space as her favourite topics: Books and Art. She furnished each store area with books, colours and objects to remind her of things.

Slowly she crept back and back, to the furthest point, the last row reserved solely for her personal relations with people. She gave each person important to her a room. She prayed, hoping there wouldn't be enough space.

_One for Micah, Charlie, Mum, Dad, Grannie, Aunt Molly, Mary,_ she went down the corridor, marking each door with a name. She added names of her closest friends from schools, and having many, she was sure there wouldn't be enough space. Exhausting all her friends, the next door was dedicated to Sherlock. When she was done, she smirked at how alike it seemed to the actual man. The smirk faded to a frown when she found the last door. She tried to get rid of it, but her mind wouldn't allow it. She knew why, and knew who it was for. There was no point- she had to accept that the woman was now in her life, and her once simple way of living was becoming more complicated by the second.

_Besides, if I can sort through my information about her, maybe I can get to the bottom of the mess she's creating._

Rachel named the last door _Enola Holmes_.

Two hours later, Rachel opened her eyes, shutting instantly when it received to much light. She squinted waiting for her sight to adjust, and when she did, found that her brother was not yet done with her work. Sherlock had left somewhere, and John wasn't in judging by the coat that was missing on the rack. That's when she realised that she was very, very bored. She got up, examining the room in detail, running her hands over the bottom of the bullet-hole smiley face, eyebrows raised at the randomness. She looked at the skull a couple times before turning to the violin.

She admired how sleek it looked in its shiny case. The girl noticed the wear of the wood and deduced that eventhough it's actual age was probably over a few centuries, this one was probably played longer than a normal violinist would. She ran her hands past the bridge of the instrument and onto the four strings, plucking them slightly, humming the fifth intervals as she went along. She dragged her hands over the f-holes, hurriedly wiping the wood after when she realised she had left powdery rosin trails on the instrument. Sherlock was probably playing right before the arrived.

She ventured back to the skull, picking it off the mantelpiece, eyeing it carefully.

"What do you think about the mess Enola made?" she asked, before delving into her second conversation with the mute object.

When John came home a while later, he was greeted with the surprising sight of Rachel lying stomach-down on the floor, laughing at (or with?) the skull, while Charlie was seated, spine straight and crossed legged on the floor, seemingly in a trance. Sherlock sat in the kitchen dissecting what seemed to be a human ear.

"It's settled, the Holmes family is the weirdest anyone can ever meet."

0o0o0o0o000o0o00

"He so knows that Enola's trying to break 'em up. He so knows!" Rachel cried out, pacing back and forth in the small garage that she marked as her territory. They'd just gotten home and after the distraction of making mind palaces was blown over, Rachel's mind was whizzing with reasons for Sherlock's denial over Enola's irritance.

"Calm down, Rache." her brother muttered, carelessly strumming a tune on his guitar, humming.

"Charlie, she's trying to ruin our aunt's love life! Not to mention her brothers! I can't sit around doing nothing. There is something of about her- we just need proof!"

"Rachel, don't get overdramatic-"

"I'm not being overdramatic Charlie! You know I'm right. I know you've realised this to. You can act around everyone else, but I always see right through you." Rachel smirked triumphantly as her brother sighed.

"Fine, yes, I've noticed."

"Good. It's obvious Sherlock's noticed. Why doesn't he _do_ something?" she asked, anger flaring again. "It's as if he doesn't give a damn about Aunt Molly. He knows how uncomfortable she's making her." she hissed.

"Have you tried looking at his through his point?" Charlie offered.

"Huh?"

"Look Rachel, if I ever got with someone you thought wouldn't be good enough for me, or wasn't right or whatever and tried to break us up, I'd probably start by trying to ignore it. Even if it got on my nerves, I'd know that you would be doing it with our best interests in mind. On top of that, if siblings are really close, for example, us, it's hard to ever really get pissed at each other. From that, I have a hypothesis that Enola's only trying to do what she thinks is best. You get me?" he said softly, standing up and placing his hands on his sister's shoulders. She tried thinking of ways to retort or argue, but accepted defeat with a sigh.

"I just don't understand why she has to put in all this drama. Right now, the only thing that's normal-ish is the fact that those two have finally gotten it in themselves to get the bloody hell together, and now she's mucking it all up."

"I know." Charlie muttered softly.

"You know, life was easy when we didn't know Enola. But when she came, I finally understood why I act nothing like mum- I have a reason as to why I'm not as perfect as she is. I just don't want to loose that." she said softly, her voice cracking at the end. Rachel allowed a few tears to escape from her closed eyes as her brother enveloped her in a warm hug.

They stood there for quite some time, accepting the fact that life was going to get a larger deal more hectic. However, despite whatever mess they would have to be part in, they would always have each other.

**Ha….Chapter 15 done! Who knew I'd be writing so much? And it's all thanks to the lovely support I'm getting from all you lovely, amazing, awesome readers! Thank you so so so so so much! Thanks to Grace, who proofread (sometimes) and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO LaserGirl77- hope you liked this chapter, and have a great, whatever-your-age-is anniversary of your birth celebration/day to day **

**See you next time, my lovelies,**

**-Ash **


	16. Confessions and Realisations

**Shoutouts:**

**CreamCrop: Hehe, I agree with Charlie too. Thanks for reviewing :))**

**Rocking the Redhead: Well Sherlock is a consulting detective, I'm pretty sire he would've picked it up from the start. Thank you- I was hoping the kitchen scene wouldn't be too awkward!**

**MorbidbyDefault: I guess Rachel and Charlie have the most pressure in this very unexpected twist. Well here is the next chapter! Hope you enjoy :D**

**magicstrikes: Well without Enola there wouldn't be much drama anymore in this story, so…but don't worry Sherlolly will prevail. Thanks you so much for reviewing, hope you like this chapter!**

**Benedict-Addict-Holmes: Seriously? Wow, thank you- so much. That means a lot- I hope this chapter is enjoyable :D**

**Empress of Verace: No problem, you reviewed- thanks for that! Hope you like this chapter :P**

**Mia Bronte: Oh no, it's fine. Thank you for giving this story a chance! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much as the rest :) **

**AdaYuki: HAha, thank you! Well here is the next update- hope you like!**

**shepweir always: Thank you so much! I love that my readers like my OCs! Really? I was so scared that that scene may come of as to random, sexual or awkward. I was debating if I should have John and Mary go to the next level or not- looks like I made the right choice (phew!). Haha, I can imagine John being kicked out of Mind Palacing 101- yes, only a Holmes can think like a Holmes. Thank you- it's an honour to be your favourite Sherlolly author. Thank you! Yes, Enola isn't likable for what she's trying to do- but who knows, maybe all she wants to do is make things her way of right? We'll have to see. Yes, well- I do need a 'baddie' in my story- keeps things alive. Thank you so much for all the support you give me- you truly are one of my best reviewers/readers. Hope you find this chapter not to confucing and hopefully interesting and not to bad :) :D**

**Rainie Skyes: Aww thanks- is this coming from a fellow Ash? Thank you- hope you keep reading!**

**bittersweetorange: Thank you! I hope I do! Hope you enjoy this next chapter :))**

**Thank you so much to the rest of the readers! Hope you guys will enjoy this next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: BBC Sherlock belongs to Moffat and the rest of his team of complete and utter geniuses. The only things that belong to me here are: Rachel, Charlie, Enola and my version of Mary.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Rachel stared at the plain clock hanging on the wall. She watched the slim needle tick its way over the circumference of the face, willing it with her mind to move faster.

It didn't.

She groaned too herself, attracting the attention of her teacher. Mr. Peterson was a balding old man, with a giant black shoe-brush of a moustache on his face. With his large nose and egg-shaped head, he was dubbed as 'Potato' by his students. Rachel was certain he knew, and everytime the vegetable was mentioned, even casually, his head turned towards the speaker and he would throw them a horrible glare.

"Rachel, is there something in here that bothers you?" he asked, his moustache twitching with annoyance.

"Not really." She shrugged, looking back down at her work. Her eyes flitted back up to the wall barely ten seconds later. She couldn't help it.

She was _bored_.

After what felt like years, the shrill alarm of the bell broke through the silent room.

"Okay everyone. Pens down. Pack up and drop of your tests at my desk!" Potato yelled over the chaos of noise from the students.

"How'd you do?" Rachel asked the blonde girl next to her.

"Easy A for me. A star for you, for sure." She replied. Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." The blonde smirked in reply before turning away. Rachel turned smirked at her back- Hailie was a smart girl, if she wasn't she wouldn't be Rachel's best friend.

"Come on, let's go." She said, once both were packed and ready to go. Dropping of her test, she walked out the door.

"I saw you staring at the wall for half an hour."

"I was bored."

"How do you finish things so fast?" Hailie wondered out loud. Rachel shrugged.

"I see your brother with his posse. And I see my bus. Bye, love." Haile said, hugging Rachel.

"See you next week." Rachel called to her best friend before making her way to her brother.

A while later found the siblings walking down the street to their home.

"Another week is finally over." Rachel groaned. Charlie smiled half-heartedly.

"What's wrong?"" Rachel asked, concern showing on her face.

"Have you realised that Sherlock never answered your question?" Rachel's face clouded over.

"He didn't did he. He distracted us. I can't believe we _both_ fell for it!"

"Yeah I know, but think about it- why would he do that? Why not just tell us straight to our face that he didn't realise or that he did?"

The pair reached the gate to their home. Charlie reached forward, unhooking the latch before stepping inside. His sister followed, shutting and locking it, a frown on her face.

"Because he didn't know and didn't want to admit it?" Her brother huffed at her.

"C'mon Rache- you really believe he missed out on everything _we_ caught on?"

"Wait, you think he knows then?"

"Of _course _he knows, Rachel. The question is why isn't he doing anything about it." They walked through the front door, only to be greeted by silence.

"Micah's with Gran and Mum and Dad are t work. Party time?" Rachel asked, smirking.

"Yeah sure, now back to the topic." He said, throwing his bag on the couch. His sister did the same before trudging up the stairs, opening the second door along the corridor.

Rachel fell back against her brother's bed. She waited until her brother entered as well.

"Are you implying that he wants it to end? That's idiotic, borderline 'are you high'?"

"Exactly why I didn't think that. Come on Rachel, _think_."

"He thinks she won't be able to break them up?"

"Seriously? He's _Sherlock Holmes_- I'm pretty sure he knows the extent of his sisters power."

"Fine, unless- _damn_, is he in denial?" she asked. Charlie nodded.

"That's what I think."

"Charlie, I think Aunt Molly really is getting uncomfortable around Enola now days. What if she-"

"She won't dump Sherlock. From what you told me about how long she's liked him, it's going to take a lot more for that to happen and-"

"-and you're afraid that's exactly what's gonna happen." Rachel finished.

Both sat in silence for a few minutes.

"So, this is really messed up, huh?" Charlie said slowly.

"I wonder why she would do that."

"I dunno, but I want to find out." Rachel smiled.

"So do I."

00o0o0o0o

Molly smiled up at Mary as she recalled yet another gross tale of her many adventures with very sick children.

"At least you weren't bitten again."

"I'd rather be bitten than be clawed at."

"That's a little girl with bitten-down-to-the-bed nails; not a cat with newly sharpened claws you're talking about." Mary's eyes narrowed.

"You were never there, you'll never know the horrors of my field of work." Molly chuckled, shaking her head.

"The only person who can make her profession seem like a stint on the front lines or something. Honestly, in my years working as a pathologist I have never come across a pediatrician _clawed_ to death by her patient" Mary stuck her tongue out at Molly.

"Well your first could have been today, if that kid's mother wasn't there."

The doors to the morgue opened; both women glanced up. The most frequent visitor of the morgue stepped through, his Belstaff billowing around him as he reached up to untie his scarf. As usual, John followed, his default friendly grin on his face. Mary broke into a smile and slipped of her stool to greet him.

"Hey," John said, smiling as he received the woman in his arms. She pecked him lightly on the cheek.

"Hey Molls." John called out, untangling an arm around Mary to wave. Molly grinned in return.

"Morning John." She responded; Molly then shifted her gaze slightly to the still unusually silent man- he was walking back, his retrieved cultures and petri dishes balanced carefully on his palms. He glanced up, meeting Molly's gaze and grinned slightly- it almost immediately morphed into his trademark smirk.

"Molly." He acknowledged, nodding before seating himself down at Mary's old perch before dragging the microscope to himself.

John let out a loud, intentional cough, receiving Sherlock's annoyed attention. The detective caught the doctor's pointed glare and sighed, quite dramatically.

"Good morning Molly," he began, his face contorting into an easy (and fake, but terribly well put on) grin "and to you to Mary- I do hope your day went by absolutely wonderfully." His grin immediately slipped away into his are-you-happy? face. He trained his gaze on John.

"Satisfied?" he muttered.

"Yes, quite." The doctor grinned smugly. "I've been training Sherlock here to be more polite. Well, at least to greet people, without rude deductions, when he first meets them." Mary laughed slightly; Molly grinned at John, before looking back down at her work whilst shaking her head. She threw a sideways glance at the man next to her, before quickly looking ahead at Mary- he'd been watching her; Mary grinned cheekily.

"Well, John, how about we leave for a bit? I'm on break, Sherlock's gonna be captivated by his cultures and I don't want to disturb Molly- she's been dumped with work this past week." She said to John. The man looked down and smiled.

"Of course. See you two in a bit- Sherlock, no funny business."

"I should say the same for you. Especially not in public places- restrooms are apparently a popular destination." Mary broke out in laughter as John's face reddened; Molly bit back a snort, in vain.

"Shut up, you arse." He retorted, before dragging a giggling Mary out the room, whilst muttering darkly to himself.

The morgue was washed with silence. The pair left in the room sat quiet, both doing their own work. As Molly worked through her paperwork (the heel of a hand on her temple as a desperate attempt to dull her headache), she felt the need to say something, or do something- anything to make this a tiny it less awkward.

The thought drifted away as he eyes roamed the thickness of the final (thank god) stack of papers. She nodded to her self with determination: she would get through _this_ mess, then sort out her very confusing love life sometime later.

She immersed herself in her work; the world became a blur to her- she'd even forgotten that the subject of her confused feelings, tears and sometimes (_sometimes_) dreams was seated next to her.

"Molly." Molly frowned slightly- she'd probably imagined someone calling her name.

"_Molly_." The voice came again. Molly grunted in response. She'd face it _later_.

"_Molly!_" the pathologist jerked up, looking around wildly until her eyes trained on the detective.

"_What_- oh, I'm sorry; was there something you need?" she asked.

"Molly, your leg tapping is very annoying- it's getting in the way of my concentration." He said, looking pointedly at her feet. Molly stopped her feet- she hadn't realised that she even started; it was a habit even her mother couldn't break her out of. She looked up when she realised Sherlock was once again talking.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Sherlock huffed.

"I said, Molly, that your leg-tapping is a sign of stress. Seeing that it makes it difficult for me to work when in these conditions, I require you to _take a break_." Molly raised her eyebrows.

"Sherlock, I can't-"

"On the contrary, morning work hours end after five, and seeing that you were working that shift this morning, you're work day is over. On top of that, you haven't taken any time of your busy schedule to even eat, or have drink- I can tell you're thirsty by the consistent licking of your lips, and every few seconds, wether unconscious or not, your hand grips your stomach."

Molly looked down at her paperwork, before looking back up at Sherlock and sighing tiredly. She was a tiny bit hurt that he blatently pointed out that she was annoying him, and that he was better of alone, but Molly was just to tired- and everything he said was, as usual, to the mark. She slipped of her seat.

"Okay, Sherlock, you win. I'll leave you to yourself. Don't mess around too much with the bodies, and lock up before you leave. I know you know where I keep the spare keys." She said as she grabbed her bag and shrugged on her coat.

"Oh, no." she looked up at him, a look of confusion on her face- she was greeted woth an empty stool and table. Molly looked around for Sherlock, finding him when he came out from the back of the morgue.

"You're not done with your cultures, are you?" she asked.

"Would they be back in their stores if I weren't?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. Molly rolled her eyes, swearing she saw him smirk.

"Why're you done with them so fast, then?" she tried again. This time, he did smirk, quite widely, in fact.

"Because, Molly," he said, shrugging on his coat "you're not going out," his voice was muffled as he strained his neck to knot his scarf. He adjusted it slightly, before walking up to Molly. His smirk was wider than ever.

"_We_ are."

Molly stood there, the look of disbelief and confusion directly mirroring her inner feeling, as the detective strode out of the room. A few seconds later, the echo of his voice carried into the morgue.

"Do hurry up Molly, I assure you- this isn't a dream." Molly snapped out of it, before smiling widely. Then realising what he had said, she scowled.

"I wasn't thinking this was a dream." She called out defensively as she walked out of the morgue.

"Yes you were, now do _hurry_ up."

0o0o000o0o0o0

Rachel slurped the last of her iced Coke, before tossing the empty paper cup into the recycling bin next to her. She stood a little way away from it, leaning against the wall casually.

A tall, brunette boy joined her a few seconds later, ruffling her hair- she punched him in the stomach in retaliation.

"Where's Enola?" Rachel asked.

"Still in the theater. Said she was speaking to the attendant about her chair or something- wasn't listening."

"Was it the tall one with the big eyes and tattoo?"

"Yep."

"She's not talking about the chair."

Rachel sighed, scratching her arm. She watched the other viewers file out of the cinemas. There was a young girl standing next to her mother- they'd just come out of the movie her mother wanted to see, and if she was correct (by how hard that kid was holding on to her mother- and how fake her smile was) she was going to get a reward.

"That woman's just divorced and is going at it with at least two men, including the dude she's with." Her brother whispered in her ear. He was right. Said blonde was clinging onto the hot (young) blonde next to her, the tan-line from where her wedding ring used to be fresh and bright. Her eyes were glancing around periodically though- definitely not something someone would do when in love. Besides, the antique watch she was wearing, was definitely a sentimental, _romantic_ gift- given obviously by an older guy.

The teenager shook her head. People were so _needy_. She caught sight of her biological mother sauntering up to them soundlessly, despite the five inch sticks attached to the soles of what would have made very nice _flats_.

Enola grinned down, towering, over both kids. Rachel couldn't help but smile- Enola may be a horrible influence, but she _was_ an awesome friend, even when she was obviously trying to break apart (in Rachel's mind) the awesome-est couple in the whole of London.

"How'd you find the movie?" she asked, grinning.

"Great. Martin Freeman was amazing as Bilbo, I never really expected that. I can't wait for the next movie." Charlie answered.

"Yeah, Peter Jackson did a great job this time." Rachel agreed. Enola nodded and grinned again.

"Let's get something to eat before we go, yeah?"

00o0o0o0o0o0

John hugged Mary tighter to his side when she felt him shiver slightly next to him. The crisp new year's air bit into their skin, through theor coats and clothes. She smiled softly up at him; John smiled back, taking in the woman underneath him. He leaned down and nuzzled her slightly, earning a giggle.

John grinned against her forehead before kissing it gently and leaning his cheek against the top of her dark head. He felt her snuggle into his chest.

The doctor usually wondered how he got this lucky. He stole a glance down at her. He caught a glimpse of her smile. John was beginning to wonder if his feeling were more than his initial infatuation. He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't realise that he had been caught staring.

"Like what you see?" Mary smirked, her dark eyes twinkling. John started slightly, before regaining composure and playing the easy grin that got him the many girls before this one.

"More than." He muttered before nipping the shell of her ear. Mary lightly swatted him, giggling.

"John, that tickles." He smirked before repeating his earlier gesture.

"_John_." Mary laughed out. She pushed him away slightly, and walked ahead, shaking her head.

She sashayed slightly, John clearly seeing through her intentionally bad façade. He grinned slightly, walking up behind her. People walked around them, at one point broadening the space between them; John effortlessly sidestepped and twisted around until he was walking directly behind her.

He slipped around; to stand next to her and quietly laced his arm around her hip. John lightly placed his palm on the curve of her hip before pulling her hastily against him. She squealed rather loudly, attracting the attention of a few other pedestrians. Mary smiled apologetically at them before turning to glare John. The man merely grinned before leaning down to kiss her. He pulled away and swerved past a large man in a suit he had almost banged into in his moment of blindness.

Looking back down, John grinned as Mary's pout was morphed into a small grin of her own.

"Idiot." She muttered, slapping him slightly on the chest. John shrugged, casually hugging her again.

"_My_ idiot."

John couldn't keep the grin off the rest of the night.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The waiter adjusted his nametag as he weaved through the many tables in the quaint café before reaching the small booth by the window. The couple seated there wasn't one of the annoying lovey-dovey ones that couldn't tear their eyes of each other. Maybe he could get through this table in _under_ five minutes for once.

The man seemed engrossed in his phone- the young man was certain he hadn't even noticed him. The woman smiled up at him. _She's cute_ he thought, before grinning easily. He stood, ready with his notepad and pen.  
"Are you ready with your orders, miss?" he asked, leaning in towards her, as she leaned up a little. He grinned- he had this chick in the bag. The woman flicked her eyes at his chest before meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks, uh, Jordan." She said. Jordan grinned.

"That's my name- yours?" he asked easily. The woman smiled again.

"Molly." Her eyes trained on her menu again, before looking back up "Can I have two coffees, black with two sugars in each, a chicken sandwich and- Sherlock," her attention, unfornately, to the other man, who looked up. His eyes immediately trained on the young man with a cold blue stare.

"Nothing for me, thanks." He said. The other man gave him a pointed glare, to which Jordan nodded slightly before nervously backing off. He knew that look.

Jordan had to back off _his_ girl.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Molly raised her eyebrows, smirking slightly. Sherlock caught her look and raised his own eyebrow.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"Oh nothing. It's just that your glare scaring away that kid shows how scary you are." Sherlock smirked, before looking back down at his phone screen. Molly scoffed slightly, once again receiving Sherlock's attention- this time a look of curiosity on his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, leaning forwards.

"I don't know if you know this, Sherlock, but when you take a girl out, it's etiquette to not be on your phone the whole time." Sherlock smirked, raising an eyebrow. He leaned forwards a bit more.

"Who said I was 'taking you out' as you put it?"

"Sherlock, do you need a repeat of our earlier conversation? See, you told me I needed a break, so I said I'd leave you to it, only to see you putting on your coat saying I wasn't going out, we were. You basically said we were going out." She finished, smiling slightly.

"I could've meant that we were only going as friends."

"Sherlock, if we were, you would have called me out halfway through just now." Sherlock chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms. A curl fell in the middle of his forehead; Molly resisted the urge to reach over and brush it away.

"You win _this time_, Molly Hooper." Sherlock said. Molly felt a shiver going down her spine from the way the sultry baritone uttered her name. Molly smiled slightly.

"I know."

The waiter, Jordan, from earlier swerved around tables, balancing a tray with two cups of coffee and Molly's sandwich. He set everything down rather quickly, and grinned at Molly as he straightened. He nodded a little before turning around and walking away.

"Sherlock, when was the last time you've eaten?" Molly asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"_Sherlock_. Tell me." She met his eyes.

"When did the last case start?"

"_Sherlock!_ That was four days ago! Pick something from the menu, order, and eat it. Now." Sherlock glanced up at her, a frown on his face.

"I am perfectly alright Molly, I-"

"Sherlock. Eat. Now. Do you know how unhealthy this is? You could faint, anytime, anywhere!" Sherlock's frown deepened.

"Molly, I assure you, I-"

"Sherlock, I can't have you starving yourself. I can't have you d- Sherlock, _please_, just eat. Something, anything. Please."

"Molly-"

"I'm not leaving, and neither are you until you eat something. Unless you want me to call John- I'm sure he can cook something for you that-"

"Okay, _fine_." Sherlock hissed, snatching a menu the waiter failed to take back.

He raised his hand, calling a waiter, before ordering a tuna sandwich. Molly sat, smirking, until the food came. She watched as Sherlock peeled back the wrapping and take a small nibble from the corner.

"I want to see that finished Sherlock." she muttered. Sherlock glared back at her, nibbling at his food.

0o0o0o0o0o

Sherlock observed Molly as she ate her own sandwich. Both sat calmly, in silence as they went about their business; Sherlock contemplating whilst Molly made sure he ate.

The waiter had obviously taken a liking to Molly. He was nothing but a mere boy, yet he found someone significantly older to be attractive. Sherlock realised now that Molly indeed was not plain, physically, whatsoever- he'd come to finally notice the certain looks more than a few men had given her. Something bugged him in the corner of his mind- nothing trivial and mundane like jealousy over the attention she was oblivious too- no, of course not. It was something else entirely.

Why had he not noticed this before?

Sherlock wasn't going to start lying to himself- he never found, or realised, that Molly was as attractive as she was, but couldn't find it in himself to figure out why. The thing that worried him the most, was the fact that he suddenly, ou of nowhere, did.

Maybe it was the change in her. Sherlock leaned back, looking at Molly. Physically, she hadn't changed, but her demeanour, the way she held herself- Sherlock was now beginning to see a confident, headstrong young woman in Molly; one he'd never seen before.

No one, other than John and his family, had ever spoken and _ordered_ him around like that. No one- and if anyone tried, they didn't get away with it. And he certainly almost always never listened.

He had watched her interact with her brother, his sister, their nephew and niece. This _new_ Molly seemed to be the normal one to the rest of them. Sherlock pondered the fact for quite some time. He finally came with his conclusion:

_The shy, stuttering, clumsy Molly was reserved only for Sherlock himself_.

But why was he feeling so…uneasy about it?

"Is something wrong?" Sherlock was shaken out of his thoughts, realising that his gaze was kept on Molly the entire time, and that she'd caught him.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"Is there something wrong? You've been staring at me the past few minutes," Molly sighed "is there something wrong with my face or something again?" Sherlock was slightly taken aback- surely he wasn't always staring at her, merely to point out her minimal flaws.

"No, of course not." Molly snorted.

"Yeah, 'course not." She said sarcastically, before pushing away her hair subconsciously.

Sherlock leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he took her in. Molly leaned back slightly in surprise.

"You've changed." He muttered his thoughts aloud. Molly immediately dropped her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"You're more demanding, confident, not so shy anymore-" Sherlock paused, watching the blush rise quickly onto her cheeks. She was embarrassed.

"Well I-" Sherlock efficiently cut of the start of what could have been a long apology.

"No, don't. I like you better this way." He said, leaning back, smirking.

The lighting in the room danced over her hair, giving it a reddish glow. The blush reduced, her usual fairly tanned skin settling down. She smiled shyly at the small compliment.

"Thanks." She said slowly, meeting his eyes. She frowned suddenly.

"Don't distract me Sherlock. _Eat_." Sherlock smirked.

'Well I wasn't at the start, actually- but it was working." Molly shook her head, chuckling slightly.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was." She said, smiling again.

Sherlock smirked, taking yet another nibble on his sandwich. He tried his hardest to stop (and then ignore when he gave up) the slight jitters in his chest.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

"So how is life with the two of you?" Enola asked, glancing at the two teens.

"Shouldn't you be asking us about school?" Rachel asked. Enola laughed- Rachel truly was her mother's daughter when it came to humour.

"I should, but I can get that of your dad, and you'd be bored thinking about it. So tell me- any girl or guy troubles? Friends backstabbing you?"

"Uh no- I'm cool in life." Rachel shrugged before digging into her steak. Enola turned to Charlie.

"What about you? Got a girlfriend Charlie?" the boy in question shrugged slightly.

"Not really."

"That's a lie- what about Lara what's-her-face from your tutor-group?" Rachel said in between mouthfuls. Enola raised an eyebrow. Relationships- completely her field of work, if she said so herself.

"Come on then, tell me- give me all the details."

"Uh, no, it's fine."

"Come on, Charlie- feed a woman some gossip!"

"She's just a girl in my homeroom, is all. I like her, she likes me, blah blah blah." He said, swinging his fork around in a lazy fashion, before spearing a chicken breast.

"Is she pretty?" Enola asked, her curiosity peaking.

"Yeah. Brunette, with real pretty brown eyes and-"

"-and she has curves in ALL the right places." Rachel finished, smirking at the glare her brother shot her. Enola smiled- she'd always done that with Sherlock in front of Daddy. She'd always been Daddy's little girl.

"What's her name again?"

"Lara- Lara Pulver." Charlie muttered. Enola nodded.

"Pretty name." she looked at Charlie. Where Rachel had taken after her side in personality, Charlie had the typical dark-haired, blue-eyed Holmes trait (the latter of which was sometimes lost- like Mycroft for example).

"You two sound like you'd make a great couple."

"That's what _I _said." Rachel said,

"So how is Molly, then. Haven't seen her in awhile." Enola asked, making sure to sound as casual as possible.

"She's great." Rachel said, visibly brightening, "ever since Sherlock asked her out and all that she's been real happy."

"Yeah," her brother agreed, "it's a good change for her." Enola smiled tightly through her grimace. The kids just couldn't see how horrible the _end_ result of this…_fling_ would be.

_Molly_ might be happy, and Sherlock may be too, for now.

"Is it? How're they together then? All _chummy_ and what-not?"

"I don't know." Rachel replied, "We haven't really seen them together, yet. Separately, of course, but we haven't been in the morgue for awhile." Enola nodded.

"Well, I'm happy for them." She said as casually as she could without screaming sense into the kids.

The trio carried on with their dinners. A shared look between the siblings didn't go unnoticed by Enola. She thought about it for awhile, before deeming it unimportant- she didn't dwell on in any further.

0o0oo0o0oo0o

Moly looked at the empty wrapping on Sherlock's side of the table.

"You've finished." She stated.

"A remarkable deduction, Molly- however did you come up with _that_." Sherlock said, smirking.

"I can't believe you actually finished it- I'd thought we'd have to be here all night."

"Is it really that hard to believe that I can finish a sandwich?"

"Well, seeing how bloody stubborn you are-" Molly said, taking a gulp from her cup. Sherlock smirked wider, nodding in his head slightly.

"Shall we leave, then?" he asked. Molly nodded.

"Of course," she said, draining her cup. She stood up, grabbing her coat and slinging her bag, before joining Sherlock to walk out the door.

Once outside, Molly shrugged on her coat, before looking up to Sherlock.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow Sherlock." she said, smiling. He frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Sherlock, Baker Street is that way," she said pointing to her left, "and my home is that way." She continued, indicating to the opposite direction.

"What's your point?"

"The point is that we'll be going our separate ways from here."

"Whoever told you that? It is etiquette that a man walks a woman home after a date- especially in a city in London at a time like this." Molly laughed a bit, before fully comprehending what he meant.

"Wait- this was a _date_?" Sherlock looked down at her.

"Well, we are two adults, and I did ask you, you agreed, we ate privately, we conversed- is that not a date?" he asked. Molly looked at him- he was genuinely confused.

"You have a point- usually both sides know it was a date, is all."

"I did ask you."

"You have a funny way of asking." She retorted, before turning around to walk with him. Both slid their hands in their pockets to shield them from the cold.

"Funny how?" he asked looking down at her. Molly brushed stray hairs from her face.

"Well, for one- you didn't actually ask me. You told me to take a break, and then announced that you would be following. Does that sound like asking someone out?" Molly asked, a laugh playing in her words. Sherlock grinned down at her.

"Of course- it's reading between the lines."

Molly laughed, her elbow lightly brushing against his. Both looked down at their connected joints before catching each other's gaze. Molly swallowed under intensity of Sherlock's stare before smiling and looking ahead. Her main priority was to ignore the shock of tingles that ran across her arm and down her spine at the contact.

"So how's your experiment going?" Sherlock looked down at her, giving her a look before grinning.

"It is going very well actually. From the cultures I have obtained, I learned that…"

Molly smiled, listening to Sherlock as he rambled animatedly about his findings. She grinned at the over-the-top hand gestures and the spark it brought to his eyes when he spoke. He looked…young.

0o0o0o0o0o

"So has Sherlock spoken about Molly at all, yet?" John shrugged slightly.

"He hasn't, but we are at the morgue much more often than the usual once a week and for any cases." Mary smirked lightly.

"Same with Molly- though I can see her reaching her boiling point- she's obviously going to implode soon and spill everything to me soon enough." John smiled.

"I honestly hope the git doesn't hurt her. Molly too nice a person to be played around that way."

"Don't worry- if he does do anything, he'll rue the day he was born." John laughed.

"I wouldn't want to be him, then." Mary laughed, before leaning over onto John. She looked up at the ceiling of her living room, before realising something.

"John- what about Sherlock?"

"What about Sherlock?" he parroted.

"You left him in the morgue."

"Your point?"

"How's he going to get home?"

"A cab, of course."

"He'll be alone with Molly." John's eyes widened.

"He would be, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah…wonder how that'll turn out."

"Who knows."

"Maybe they're doing it one of the body slabs."

"_Mary_!"

"What?"

"Body slabs? Seriously? He's probably annoying her."

"Maybe he took her out." John snorted.

"Yeah- where?"

"I dunno- dinner, a movie?"

"Yeah, Sherlock eating. And watching a movie- the world will end."

Mary looked up at John and shrugged.

"Who knows- sometimes the most unexpected things happen when you least expect it."

"Okay, fine. No more Sherlock talk. Let's go." Mary looked up, confused.

"Where?"

"Bed, of course."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

"So, am I dropping you of at home?"

"No, it's Aunt Molly's apartment today." Charlie said from the passenger seat.

The three has finished their dinner and were on the drive home from their day out together. Rachel lounged on the backseat, her earphones in her ear. She was worn out, and just wanted to fall asleep on her nice, warm, cozy bed.

"What about your brother?" Enola asked. Rachel raised an eyebrow. She honestly hadn't realised that Enola even knew they had a half-brother. She'd barely said to words to him, or their mum for that matter.

"He would have been dropped of at Molly's neighbours' place. Mr. and Mrs. Jones always used to babysit us when no one was free." Enola nodded slightly before driving on.

"And your Aunt will be home?"

"Yeah, she will."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Molly laughed at yet another random story of Sherlock's from his many experiences on cases. The detective smiled down at her- surprisingly comfortable with her and the warm _feeling_ he received when he made her smile or laugh.

"Why did you force me to eat?" he asked suddenly, internally hitting himself at his abruptness. He hadn't even meant to ask that. Molly's smile faded a little.

"Because you refuse to on cases for some, forgive me, _absurd_ reason and you just came out of one and you look like you haven't eaten for three days."  
"It isn't an absurd reason- eating wastes time and energy."

"But without it, you wouldn't _have_ any of the energy you're apparently 'wasting'." Molly retorted. Sherlock gave her a long look before grinning.

"We will discuss this at a later date, I assure you. But back to the topic- it isn't the only reason- why did you force me to eat?" Sherlcok watched and catalouged her reactions. She shrugged and looked down- unsureity and nervousness.

"I think that the fact you're asking me proves that you already know." Molly said, looking up at him.

Once again, he was startled by the brightness of her eyes. He shook his head slightly.

"I believe a miniscule portion of my intellect is rubbing of on you," he smirked "Yes, I believe I have a conclusion- but I want the answer so that I may compare and see if I am correct. Molly, you do know that _this_ field was never my expertise."

There was a slight pause, as they walked through the biting air.

"Because I worry for you Sherlock. I-I'm scared that sometimes something horrible will happen to you, and I don't think I- well any of us- would be able to stand that." She paused again walking on. He looked down at her, meeting a gaze.

"I _care_ about you Sherlock." she muttered, looking away.

She wasn't meeting his gaze- she was nervous of his reaction. Sherlock stopped her, placing a hand on her arm and turning her around. He searched her face, taking in the slightly surprised mask before smiling.

"Thank you." He said.

0o0oo0o0o0

Molly smiled, the warm feeling growing in her. He'd only ever (genuinely) said thank you to her once before- and that was a time neither would ever want to revisit. His hand unclasped her arm and fell to his side. The glint of his watch forced her to remember the time.

"Crap- the kids were meant to stay over tonight. We have to go. Now." She said, unconsiouly grabbing Sherlock's elbow and dragging him to the direction of his apartment.

They powerwalked up to the front door of her large apartment building. It was then Molly realised that she had a near death-grip on Sherlock's arm. She quickly untangled herself.

"Sherlock I am really-"

"It's fine Molly." He grinned down at her. Molly looked back towards the entrance to her building, before looking back at Sherlock.

"Thanks Sherlock," she said, smiling, before turning around. For the second time that day, she was stopped and turned around by him.

She almost crashed face-first into his chest- he must have stepped closer somehow because they weren't that close before. Definitely- Molly would have known.

"How was it?" Sherlock asked. Molly looked at him- he looked almost _uncertain_? Her chest glowed- he felt nervous, for _her_. Then she sobered, realising she'd probably imagined it.

"The date?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No, the café." Molly rolled her eyes back at him.

"I had a lovely time." She said. He let out a breath, before looking up at her, grinning.

"That's good, then." Molly grinned back at him.

Completely against her sane mind, Molly leaned up, giving him a peck on the cheek. Well, it was _aimed_ at the cheek, but Sherlock, anticipating the action, moved his head sideways, capturing her lips.

He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks softly before breaking away. Molly stared dumbly into Sherlock's sparkling (when did they start sparkling, for god's sake?) eyes and that very pink, very delectable, grinning Cupid's bow she'd just had a taste of; she could barely feel his calloused palms on her cheeks.

"Good night, Molly." He whispered, before taking his hands away and turning around. Molly mumbled something along the lines of 'Night, Sherlock' (she hoped).

He gave a backwards glance at her, waving, before turning around and walking away.

Molly grinned, before walking through the doors. Her nephew and niece sat at the sofa, Rachel grinning madly while Charlie looked determined to be occupied. She realised that from their position, they could see everything going on outside.

"Shouldn't you be at the Jones'?" Rachel grinned slyly.

"Well yes, but we just got here when we saw you and decided to wait up- nice show you put on there." Molly flushed slightly. Charlie peeked over the top of the magazine he was reading (an upside down Women's Weekly).

"Can we go now?" he muttered weakly. Molly's blush refused to recede.

"Of course. Come on."

The walked over to the elevator in silence.

"Rache, stop smirking,"

"Yes ma'am."

0o0o0o00

Enola scowled at the scene she'd just witnessed. Seriously? He was walking her home, now? Why didn't he see she was no good for her? Why was he being so oblivious?

"Sherlock! Need a ride home?" she called out to her brother. He turned around, before walking up to her.

"Enola." He acknowledged, hugging her "No thanks." He said in reply to her question. Enola nodded.

"So I saw you with Molly. " Sherlock glanced at her, before looking away.

"I don't think she's right for you Sherlock." his head whipped to face her.

"What do you say that." His voice was soft, menacing. Not to Enola, of course.

"She's going to hurt you, Sherlock. Just like _that_ girl. Remember her?"

"That was over decade ago, Enola, let it go. I have. Molly's-"

"Different?" Enola asked, stepping out of her car. "She isn't, Sherlock. That may be what you think- and I know you think that you don't have feelings, but you do. And when they're hurt- it won't end well for anyone."

"She won't hurt me. Molly can't hurt me. No one can. Besides, she _won't_. I know her."

"Fine, but _you_ may hurt _her_. No, you _will_. Sherlock, our family has a history with ours. For god's sake, I slept with her brother and the two of you share a niece and nephew. Imagine how it would affect _them_ if your relationship with her fell apart. You wouldn't want them to pick sides, would you? And the rest of us would have to, too." Sherlock glared at her. She groaned- he still wasn't seeing.

"Sherlock, seeing her is not good for the weak enough ties we- _I_- have to that family. I can't loose them. I can't loose my kids when I just got them back. Because they wouldn't side with us. They'd go with _them_. Sherlock, please, stop seeing her. For _me_." she said, her angry demeanor slipping away.

Once again, Sherlock scowled at her before softening slightly. Enola brightened- he was beginning to listen. He nodded curtly at her before turning around.

"Good night, Enola." He muttered before striding away.

Enola stepped into her car, slamming the door shut. She would get him to believe. He was listening to her already- this battle was won.

The war was almost over.

**I am so very, very sorry for the impossibly late update- school's been hell for me. But I hope that this extra-long chapter makes up for it? Unless it sucks completely…then I apologise profusely.**

**So tell me what you think- did I suck, was it amazing? I must know! And wasn't The Hobbit amazing?! It'd be amazing if you reviewed ****)**

**Thanks!**

**-Ash **


	17. Family Brunch at its Best

Sherlock just wanted nice, calming peace in his nice (well, amazing), calming Mind Palace- he was getting some, yes of course he _was_, until the _imbecile_ he allowed to share half his living space and be his best friend plopped himself onto the couch.

Now usually Sherlock would just switch positions and blatantly ignore the man, but there was something completely off-putting about him today. He opened his eyes slightly and slipped a glance behind him. John was sipping a cup of tea, reading the news, if reading meant staring blankly at an upside down newspaper while sneaking cheeky glances at the annoyed detective.

"_What_ do you _want_, John?" he inquired finally, even though the answer was clear to him. It was okay that Molly confided in her best friend about absolutely _everything_ (especially Sherlock himself, as he'd come to learn), but did _that_ best friend have to be the exact one that _dates_ the only idiot on the planet who finds it necessary to involve himself in Sherlock's love life? Even Mummy gave up years ago with her both her boys, and though Enola was being a, erm, _concerned sister_, that was a completely different topic.

"Nothing," the doctor grinned after the shocked look past his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes- even a blind _and_ deaf man could tell when John was (attempted at)) being secretive.

"So I heard you took Molly out to dinner." _Here we go_.

"Where, oh _where_ did you get that _fantastic_ idea from, John?" the veteran snorted.

"Doesn't matter. This does, though. How was it?" Sherlock audibly groaned. Now he wanted a 'heart-to-heart'-slash-'man-to-man' talk.

"Okay." He muttered, flopping around on his chair, trying to get comfortable. He may as well get it over with then.

"O-kay," John mimicked "that's all? How was she then- did _she_ like it?"

"Wouldn't Mary have told you?"

"She did, in fact." John smirked as Sherlock finally looked up at him. Finally, something worth listening to.

"And?"

"And what?" John asked innocently. Sherlock growled.

"John,"

"Okay, okay- I was just playing. According to Mary, she loved it and thought it was cute."

Sherlock had half a mind to thump the growing smirk off the older man's face, but decided against it- his precious energy had to be conserved and used for more important and significant things. He did throw a menacing glare at his general direction though.

He turned around, showing the back of his curly head to his companion, so as to hide his expression. His nose wrinkled at the fact that he was called 'cute' of all things, but had to admit- it was much bloody better than saying it was complete utter rubbish. He smiled to himself.

He _did _win this round.

Unfortunately, his thoughts kept straying to the encounter he'd had, with his sister, of all people after he'd dropped Molly at her home. His sister's reactions to the times he was _with_ a female, she'd have been ecstatic and happy for him. She would have even gone out of her way to be friends with them- until he grew too bored.

With Molly, he'd expected them too be fine with each other- after all, they had a lot of history, considering they were in college together. Maybe it was the type of woman? Enola was right that day in the kitchen- they _were_ all walking pieces of art, at were intellectually capable for him, and yes, _most_ have them had a more _interesting_ hue for their hair.

But Molly definitely _was_ different. She was smart, of course- he'd seen her interact with other people and found her to be easy going and intelligent; but he had to admit, she was very much different, physically, to the other women.

Sherlock pondered a little more, before completely ruling out the thought that Enola didn't like him and Molly together because of her physical appearance- it didn't make sense, and she wasn't shallow.

"I'm going out Sherlock." the man was shaken out of his thoughts, and grunted. The doctor shrugged before leaving the apartment.

Sherlock got up and stretched before lying down on the couch, his palms together and tucked under his chin.

He went back to what Enola had told him. If either hurt the other, it would affect the weird relationship their families had. It was true- in the event Sherlock and Molly were leaders of opposing sides, no doubt that while his own family would stay true to him, his sister would still be on the opposite side as the children she was just reunited with.

Speaking of the children- they were questioning him. He was lucky he got them distracted. They were smart, but then again, they were both Holmes. Did Enola tell them what she thought of his newfound relationship? He decided no, both kids- well Rachel, at least- was ecstatic to see them together, and it was pretty obvious just how hard Enola tried to stay on their good side. He smirked- it just proved just how smart they both were.

Back to the original point- could there be a possible future problem between him and Molly? Molly definitely couldn't- wouldn't- hurt him. She was much to in love, and he much to strong, emotionally.

But there was a strong chance he couldn't do the same. It was harsh, he had to admit, whenever he broke it off with any of the women he'd had when he got bored. But Molly was _different_. He'd definitely remember her name after she stormed out the door.

He still didn't know what he felt for Molly, but it was certainly more than anyone else. It was time to finally admit it, even if only in the confines of his virtual Palace.

He cared for her.

And when you care for someone, you do everything in you power to _not_ hurt him- in this case, her. And he realised: seeing Molly hurt definitely would not sit well on the person who inflicted the pain.

Sherlock knew he was capable of hurting Molly. Horribly. In a way that he knew would probably scar her and force her to drop the large dose of optimism for love that flowed in her.

But he refused even _think_ of doing that.

Yes, if he hurt Molly- many other ties would be severed harshly. But if he didn't, for all he knew, those ties would be double-knotted.

Enola had a point, but it was one that almost had no chance of ever happening.

No, he would carry on pursuing Molly.

Sherlock let out a satisfying grunt at his conclusions and sat up.

"JOHN!" he yelled to the empty apartment "I want _tea_!". He let out an annoyed noise when he realised the flat was empty.

The detective pulled the bedsheet tighter over his body with one hand as the other reached for his phone. He typed a quick text to his roommate before dragging himself (gracefully, of course) to his room to put on some _actual_ clothes.

0o0o00o0o0o0o0o

A yowl echoed through the previously peaceful atmosphere of the flat. The sound of scampering paws followed, the noise accompanied by a morbidly obese tabby cat.

"Toby! Come here, will you?" Rachel cried out, running out of the guest bathroom, clad in an old T-shirt and a ratty pair of shorts. The girl stopped in the living room, having lost sight of the cat. For such a fat cat, it was incredibly agile and fast- and impossibly hard to find.

A shirtless boy walked into the room after, hands on his hips, a frustrated look on his face.

"Worst. Cat. Ever. Why didn't Aunt Molly just get a dog?"

"Because a dog would feel cooped in this small space." Said aunt answered, holding the runaway cat. It resembled a furry grey and white ball of yarn as it cowered in Molly's crossed arms.

"Yes, well, bathing dogs are immensely easier." Rachel muttered, heading back to the bathroom.

The peacefulness of the apartment was fully erased for the next few minutes as the entire space was filled with yowls, hisses and many, many choice words.

The two teens groaned as they slumped onto the couch, their forearms covered in red welts from claw marks. Their aunt followed, her arms surprisingly bare.

"How is it that you never get scratched?" Rachel asked. Molly shrugged.

"He's used to me, I guess. Now you guys have to get ready now- we have to get to your house." Rachel groaned.

"We have brunch with Grandma, don't we." Molly nodded, before yanking her up. Rachel grinned.

"Do I get more Mentos?" Molly frowned.

"Honestly, anymore and all your teeth are gonna fall right off." She said, ushering the kids into their room to get changed.

Molly groaned to herself. She wished it was yesterday, when she was with Sherlock, talking to Sherlock, staring into Sherlock's amazing eyes, kissing Sherlock…

The pathologist mentally slapped herself. Now was not the time to fantasize about a certain sexy detective- now was the time to get ready for Mum.

She groaned again, thinking of the only man capable of turning her into a squealing groupie. She ambled to her bedroom.

"Rachel and Charlie, wake your brother up and get him changed as well!"

The twin groans from the two children fell on deaf ears as the door to the bedroom slammed shut.

0o0o0o0o0o

Marion Hooper was a petite, graceful woman. To anyone, she looked like a kindly old grandma- the type that snuck her grandchildren sleeves of Mentos and other candies as she placed slobbery kisses on their cheeks. The type who coos over every small accomplishment and laughs in delight every chance she got to see her own offspring.

And that was exactly who she was. As Molly walked up the driveway with the teenagers in tow and the toddler in her arms, her brother accompanied by grinning elderly woman greeted her.

"Mum," Molly smiled, pecking her mother on the cheek as she hugged her softly. The older woman returned the hug with strength Molly still wasn't used to. They pulled away, Molly panting from the lack of breath as Marion moved on to her grandchildren.

"My sweet lovelies! You've both grown so _much_!" she cooed as she squeezed the air out of the teens.

"Thanks, Grandma." Charlie managed to wheeze out.

"You only saw us last month, Gran." Rachel stated, grinning when they were freed from her grasp.

"Of course, dear! Now, how about some Mentos?" she asked as she dug through her hand through her large purse.

0o00o0o0o0o0o0

"So what is this I hear about this reconciling with the mother of your two eldest children?"

Molly swore inwardly. She knew this would come up at some point- but brunch was going so _well_. She glanced across the table, where Mia had adopted a poker face as Matt struggled to find his voice. She met her brother's gaze and gave him a helpful smile.

"Well, she wanted to meet her biological children- who am I to refuse?" Matthew said uncertainly. His mother grunted

"You are the father, Matthew- the parent that actually _stayed_, rather than abandon." Molly caught the flustered look from her brother and responded with an apologetic shrug. She bit her lip- the subject of the kids' mother was always a sore spot in the family; not that it wasn't understandable.

"Marion," Mia began, placing a well manicured palm on her mother in law's "I think that it is good thing that the children get to meet the missing half of where they came from. I'm sure they've always wanted to know what happened to their biological mother, and if this answers their questions, so be it." The woman flashed a smile at the older one next to her.

Marion nodded tersely, before putting on another warm smile. Molly blew out the air she held in. It was over- for now.

"Well, I have to use the loo- so please, excuse me." Marion said, as she stood up and left the room.

"Uh, is it okay if we leave? We kinda have homework- lots of it." Rachel said. Mia arched an eyebrow.

"Can it wait until after?" Charlie shook his head.

"Not really, no." Matthew sighed.

"Yeah okay, you can-" the door slammed, signaling the children's exit "-go." He finished to no one in particular.

The air was filled with tremendously awkward silence. Molly fiddled with her cutlery and wine glass, taking miniscule sips to save the wine and herself from having to start a conversation.

"Thanks, I guess, for defending- uh-"

"It won't happen again, Matthew. I wholly agree with your mother. They shouldn't be seeing an influence as bad as _she_ is." Mia cut across effortlessly. Molly put down her glass.

"Mia," she started "what you said _is_ true, you know. The kids have a great time with her, and they actually are quite happy with the arrangements- I mean they finally know who their mother is-"

"_I_ am their mother, Molly- in case you haven't realised, I was the one who changed the diapers, the one who sat through the tantrums, the one who was there for their first days of school!"

"Oh Mia, I didn't mean it in that way." Molly said softly. Mia sighed, pushing away a strand of hair.

"I know, I-I know- but she isn't a good influence on them. If she's anything like she was in our uni days especially. I'm not saying this out of spite, or anything. It's just a fact."

Molly gave a small smile before reaching for her glass again. This time she drained it in one gulp.

The door opened and the three adults scrambled to look casual and, well, normal. Marion walked in holding a very grumpy child in her arms.

"Look who I found trying to get down the stairs." She cooed. Despite her words being addressed to the adults, she kept her eyes on her youngest grandchild, who was squirming around to escape her grip.

Mia stood up, receiving Micah from Marion, and settled down before allowing him to perch comfortably on her lap.

"Where are the other two?" Marion asked, upon realising the absence of her other grandchildren.

"They've been bombarded with homework- especially Charlie with his GCSEs coming soon. And Rachel is still in the midst of choosing her subjects." Marion nodded.

"She _is_ taking Art as a subject, isn't she?" Mia and Matthew shared a look.

"Well," Mia answered "we aren't so sure about that." Marion frowned.

"Do they not have an Art course at that school?"

"No, mum, they do- it's just that, it isn't necessarily the wisest subject choice is it?"

"Nonsense! She's an amazing artist- if it is about her not getting the results, then you are wrong! She'll do fine! Why doesn't she want to do Art suddenly?" Again. The parents shared an uncomfortable glance. Molly tried to intervene.

"So mum-"

"Not now Molly dear- I want to get to the bottom of this." She said, waving her daughter away. She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer from his son.

"It isn't her- she loves art. _We_," he said, indicating to himself and his wife "don't think it's what's best for her."

"Matthew! This is a turning point in your daughter's life! Did I get in the way of your subject choosing? I let you go out with the risk of getting hurt every week because you had such a desire for sport!"

"That's different mum."

"Yes," Mia agreed, "P.E looks good on college applications- it shows stamina and teamwork, even leadership in the individual. Art doesn't show much."

"Nonsense- creativity, imagination; isn't that what the modern world is looking for nowadays? Molly, am I right?"

Molly looked up from her empty wine glass, a flush gathering in her cheeks.

"I- I don't know mum, I'm not really going to get into this-"

"Molly! Just answer the question, no one will bite!" Marion's face was one of pure confidence- as if she knew exactly what Molly would say. Mia's was one of determination and anger, while Matthew looked pretty scared. Molly thought about her answer before speaking slowly.

"I understand that all of you want what's best for Rachel. I'm not a parent, so I can't really empathise or anything like that, however, in Rachel's eyes, I think that you should be fair with her. Instead of probing and pressuring her into her choices, you should give her a helping hand, be by her side always and let her make her own final decisions. She's a smart girl- it isn't like she's going to pick every non-academic choice offered."

The older woman nodded slightly taking in her words.

"Well said, sweetie." She answered with smile. Mia look ahead at Molly, before nodding slightly. Molly breathed out in relief. At least nothing got too ugly.

"So Molly, when am I going to get my second batch of grandchildren?"

_Things just got ugly_.

"I don't know mum, when I meet the right guy?"

"Well word on the street is that you _have_ found somebody."

"Pardon?" Molly asked confused. She couldn't be talking about Sherlcok, right? Even _Molly_ didn't know exactly what they were. Molly made a mental note to ask him about that later- when (if) she had the courage.

"That detective fellow, the one who was on the news of course."

"Who gave you that idea?" Molly asked.

"Sweetie, I have my sources. Many advantages come out of bridge, bingo and book nights." The pathologist groaned- how could she forget that her mother always received the latest gossip years before Molly did herself.

'We haven't been dating, mum- we both have mutual working partners with the Yard. He comes by the morgue every few days when he's on a case, is all." Molly _was_ telling the truth- no doubt about that.

"Quite a charming man, he seems- very handsome. You have a good eye when it comes to looks, I have to admit, Molly." Marion rattled of, seemingly not having heard her daughter's last words.

"But I must say, he's a bit peculiar, isn't he? All with that tabloid nonsense and all that roof jumping and death faking, not to mention, he was apparently very rude to Doris'- you do remember Doris from bridge, yes? Well Doris' daughter-in-law's brother's wife. Told her she had a fake nose! And hips! Poor girl was furious- absolutely humiliating. Then again- that is what happens when you go under the knife!"

Just then, a shrill tune sounded through the room. Molly retrieved her phone from her pocket.

"Sorry- it's St. Bart's- I have to take this."

Molly almost cried out in relief- she did not want to get into a conversation about Sherlock…especially not with her mother. She spoke quickly to the latest intern Mike was left with. This one was a complete klutz apparently- and it seemed to be true; Molly could here multiple thumps and crashes in the background. At least the message was conveyed: new body, murder, not the job for an intern and Mike's shift was just over.

"I have to get to the morgue- new body." She said barely containing her grin. She didn't have to talk about Sherlock! Marion stood up and moved to give Molly a hug.

"Okay then sweetie- honestly, how do you put up with that line of work?"

Molly laughed, before moving to hug everyone else in the room. She took her leave and called for a cab. She looked down at her jeans and blouse- not her normal work attire, but she was far to lazy to change, though it would've been nice if she had her nice flats rather than the current five inches she had strapped to her feet.

"To St. Barthemellow's please." She said as the cabbie pulled away.

0o0o0o0o0o

Molly remembered exactly why she always chose her drab jumpers over normal clothes for work- the morgue was _freezing. _She shivered as she readied the body on the slab before shrugging on her lab coat.

_White male, external injuries include multiple puncture wounds from a sharp object and indentations in the cranium from a blunt object,_ she mentally noted as she examined the body. Satisfied, she began her first insertions. Molly swiveled around lazily in her chair, waiting for Lestrade and the rest to walk through the doors.

The doors opened and a young man walked in unsurely.

"Dr. Hooper!" he acknowledged nervously, making his way towards her. He stumbled slightly and almost fell onto one of the body slabs. Molly suppressed a giggle.

"You must be Jeffery- Mike's new intern." She said extending a hand. The man fiddled with his glasses before reaching out to shake her hand.

"Y-Yes, pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hooper."

"Please, my name is Molly."

"O-Of course, Dr- uh- Molly." Molly smiled at the young man. If this one was making her giggle, she probably given the doctor's _she'd_ worked with quite the show.

"Was there anything you needed?"

"Uh yes, I-"

The doors swung open a second time, and the sound of multiple footsteps sounded, before revealing the usual Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson accompanied by John.

"Hey Molly." Greg greeted. Molly smiled in return.

"Where's Sherlock?" she asked.

"Why? It's so peaceful right now. Enjoy the peaceful serenity of the absence of Sherlock Holmes." Molly rolled her eyes at Anderson. She didn't press further, leaving her question unanswered.

She had given a brief explanation of C.O.D when Sherlock stepped into the morgue. Anderson groaned.

"Mid thirties. Married. None of these wounds are the C.O.D, but-" a crash sounded through the room. All eyes were on Molly who shrugged and looked around as well. A meek voice sounded.

"Uh, Dr. Hoo- I mean, Molly, uh there seems to be, uh, a little problem."

"Sorry," Molly muttered, walking around the slab, "clumsy intern."

"Jeffery, please tell me those were one of the empty petri dishes." Molly said as she stepped around a puddle of glass.

"It was," he said as he placed a hand behind him, effectively sweeping of another petri dish- this one housing a form of mold. Molly let out a little squeak as she dived for it. Her elbow was scraped by a cabinet handle, drawing blood, but she saved the dish thankfully.

"Jeffery," she said sternly "I can't have you breaking things in this morgue- especially any of the petri dishes with culture or mold or anything in here. Look, new rule, okay? You a re free to enter this morgue, but this bit here is off-limits, okay? Sherlock would go berserk if any of his experiments were messed with."

The young man's eyes widened.

"These belong to Sherlock Holmes? Oh. My. God. Please don't let him hurt me! I'll do anything, please!" the boy cowered slightly. Molly almost laughed right there- she knew Sherlock was intimidating, but that was seriously overboard.

"Okay, okay, he won't just help me clean up, and I can send you on an errand, is that all right?'

"O-Okay."

"Can you send these samples over to the labs and say I need any results back ASAP. Tell them the tox results should be the most important." Molly said, handing over multiple samples. She was slightly worried- Jeffery's hands were trembling.

"Okay, Dr.- Molly."

"Don't drop these Jeffery- okay?" the intern looked over to where the small group of detectives and assistants stood watching. Molly watched the boy gulp and splutter as he laid eyes on Sherlock.

"Okay, go on then- take your time on the way, I really can't have things falling and breaking, understood?"

"O-Of course," the boy nodded. He stood there a little while longer, swaying nervously on his feet, his eyes darting around the room until they caught the stern gaze from the pathologist.

"R-Right, tox reports, uh, yeah, okay." he stuttered finally before stumbling his way out of the morgue. Molly sighed before turning around.

"Sorry- interns." She said, smiling and shrugging her shoulders.

The rest of the time was spent with Sherlock informing everyone of the C.O.D in between multiple snide comments and arguments exchanged with Anderson and Donovan. His deductions were, as usual, proven correct when Jeffery stumbled back in with the final reports. The entire case was wrapped up there in the morgue itself.

"Okay, we'll dispatch a team to arrest the brother then. Sherlock, do you want to join?" The detective shrugged and shook his head.

"I'm sure you can survive one arrest without my help." Lestrade rolled his eyes before saying goodbye to Molly with a hug. He left with Donavan and Anderson following in tow.

Molly sat at her desk, hurriedly scribbling out all the paperwork as Sherlock moved to the back room for his experiments.

"Hey, Molls." John started "is Mary in today?" Molly looked up and smiled.

"Of course, and I do believe she's quite free today." John grinned and nodded.

"Thanks. Molls."

"Hey, John," she called out, calling him back "you really do like her, don't you?" his face immediately reddened and his hand went up reflexively to scratch the back of his head. He stepped forward until he was directly in front of the pathologist.

"Honestly," he said, his voice dropping down to almost a whisper "I think it may be a whole load more." An annoyed grunt responded to John's statement- one that didn't come from the woman in the room.

"Damn it," John groaned "I'm never gonna hear the end of it from that one. Honestly, love is a disease to him." Molly smiled softly.

"It is, isn't it?" John seemed to realise his slip up.

"Oh, Molly I didn't-"

"Oh, John- it's fine." She said, brightening immediately "seriously, trust me." she added for extra emphasis. The veteran smiled back apologetically.

"Go on," Molly said "I know you'd rather be talking to my best friend rather than to little ol' me." John smiled and nodded before reaching down and hugging her tightly.

"B the way," Molly added as he pulled away, "if you hurt her, I hurt you, understood?" John laughed, heading to the door.

"I know- I've already been warned!"

Molly looked back down at her paperwork; Sherlock came back into the morgue with 'his' microscope and multiple petri dishes.

Molly stole a few glances back at Sherlock. He was, once again, effortlessly gorgeous as he sat there examining his cultures. She sighed, turning back.

Her infatuation with the man was age old- not when they first met, oh god no; Molly may be a softie, but she was not some annoying Disney heroine. It was a little while after, and honestly it was only a schoolgirl crush that just snowballed without any push or shove at all.

Now she finally got what she wanted, kind of, but why wasn't she feeling so ecstatic and happy? _Maybe it's because you aren't sure what _this_ is_, a voice echoed inside her.

What _were_ they? They had been on two dates, but he hadn't said anything at all to even acknowledge that fact. Needless to say, Molly was beyond confused. Molly from six months ago would have definitely settled for this- it would have been the ultimate jackpot for her, but current Molly wasn't so sure anymore.

One thing kept bugging her at the back of her mind- one that she'd shoved to that area so many years ago. But now, after recent events _and_ what certain people mentioned, it was slowly coming back to haunt her.

_Sherlock Holmes doesn't love_.

Well technically, that was untrue. She'd seen him with his sister, and what she'd heard of his relationship with his mother, there had to be some ounce of that feeling in him- and that ounce was reserved solely for his sister and mother.

No, it wasn't that Sherlock Holmes didn't love.

_Sherlock Holmes couldn't/ wouldn't love _her.

Her paperwork finally finished, Molly stood up to file everything away. She was dead tired and just wanted to go home and sleep after a nice, long hot bath. Sherlock was still immersed in his work and she had to stay with him until he was done- hospital policy.

"Sherlock? Is it alright if we continue this next time? I've had quite a long day, and-"

"Of course- family brunch must always be a headache." He smiled, standing up. Molly's eyes widened with surprise- her excuse actually _worked_ this time?

Molly packed way as Sherlock grabbed his coat. She waited for him to exit the morgue before switching off all lights and locking the doors. They walked out to the entrance in silence- one that was broken when Sherlock hailed a cab.

He opened the door, and stood by it patiently. It took the pathologist a while to understand his gesture.

"Oh, thanks Sherlock," she smiled heading towards the open door. She was about to enter when a hand on her back stopped her. She turned around, only to have a pair of lips pasting themselves over hers.

He pulled back after a few seconds and smirked at her dazed expression.

"Goodnight, Molly," he said, before ushering her in, and shutting the door.

As the cab drove away, Molly sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

She really had to get her relationships sorted.

**I know- that was a crap ending- please feel free to make any changes, and feedback would be really great?**

**You've been an awfully tremendous help- thank you sooooo much!**

**-Ash **


	18. Complicated Relationships

Rachel jogged around the large space, passing endless rows of storage units. She backtracked and steered herself into a newly renovated set. Walking along, Rachel muttered the names she spray-painted onto each door. The teenager pushed up the metal door of the particular unit she was looking for and strode inside.

As she headed to the far end of the room, Rachel tripped over a cricket bat. Swearing softly to herself she picked it up and pushed it lightly. It disappeared, reappearing again next to the stumps in the far left corner. Her fingers dragged across the strings of an electric guitar, eliciting a few muted notes. She finally reached the far wall- one that was bare (it was still undergoing the design process) save for a large desk shoved against it. She rummaged around on the messy surface before unearthing a small diary under a list marked '**Threats and Blackmail**'

The girl flipped hurriedly through the little black book muttering 'Thursday' repeatedly under her breath.

"Band." She said softly to herself as she pointed at the word inked into the page of the small leather-bound book. Snapping it shut, she threw it back onto its cluttered surface and left the unit.

"Any idea where he is, then?" Rachel shook her head slightly. The transitions between reality and her mental sanctuary (as she'd rather call it- Mind Palace was far to posh) were still something the teenager would have to get used to.

"I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "Band practice- honestly don't be so paranoid. He'll be back by dinner." Rachel muttered as she swerved around her father to get to her room.

"Thanks sweetheart!" her father yelled up at her. She leaned over the railings at the top of the stairs.

"No problem, dad!" she yelled down.

"Hey, inside voices, love." Rachel turned around, greeted byt of her mother exiting her room.

"Sorry mum." Rachel winced as her mother planted a wet kiss on top of her head.

"Your memory's getting very good- learning new techniques at school?" Rachel scoffed.

"Are you joking? I learn nothing there. Sherlock taught me." Rachel immediately mentally hit herself.

"_Sherlock_ taught you?" Rachel groaned internally. _Here we go_.

"Yeah mum, he's a pretty good teacher."

"Okay, but seriously Rachel- I need you to be careful around him." She knew her mother was looking out for her- but people dissing, for lack of a better word, Sherlock somehow always bugged her; he _was_ basically family now. She couldn't bite back the snarky comment if she tried.

"Mum, he's biologically my uncle. I highly doubt he's going to kidnap me in his big white man and try trafficking or holding me to a ransom."

"Rachel, don't-"

"I know, mum, I'm sorry." Rachel interrupted her mother's scolding rant before leaning up to peck her cheek.

"I have a test to study for tomorrow, I'll be down for dinner, promise." She said, before ducking under and racing to her room. Being short may have its disadvantages, but the pros that came with it were amazing.

0oo00oo0o

"Afternoon, Doctor Hooper, but you have a visitor- one Miss Enola Holmes. Says she's here for the kids?"

"Yeah, send her down then, Ralph. Thanks."

"No problem Doctor Hooper." Molly said her byes to the receptionist and replaced the intercom into its holder.

No more than a minute later, the door to the morgue opened. Molly frowned- it definitely took more than a minute to get all the way down to the morgue. And the kids had just left to the cafeteria, so it was either Mike or-

"Molly- are my experiments where they should be?"

"Sherlock." Molly smiled warmly. "Of course, in the back room where you left them." She received a curt nod in response before the tall figure swooped away.

The doors opened barely a few seconds later, announcing the arrival of the other Holmes Molly was personally aquatinted with.

"Molly!" the woman yelled cheerily as she squashed Molly into a large hug. Their height difference was intensified by the platforms Enola has picked out for the day, forcing Molly's face into her companion's, ah, chest.

Enola finally pulled away, giving Molly room to breathe.

"The kids are at the café. They'll be back in a short while, unless you want them back now?"

"Oh no, no- it can wait." Enola said settling herself onto the stool next to Molly's.

"So how's life Molly? Mine's been a terrible bore save for my time with the kids- so entertain me."

"My life isn't entertaining, Enola," Molly answered before turning back to her paperwork, "You know that."

"Okay then, why don't you tell me about this new love story I'm hearing about." Molly looked, up frowning.

"Sorry- I'm not quite following." She said, taking a sip from her coffee.

"Sure you do! Come on Molls- how's the love affair between you and my brother?" Molly choked, coughing uncontrollably as she tried to come to her senses. Her's and Sherlock's, um, uh, _thing_ wasn't really under wraps when it came to family, but it didn't mean they spoke about it on a daily basis. Molly was finding the voice to tell Enola that her brother was right in the back room when said detective strolled in, arms balancing petri dishes.

"Sister."

"Big Brother." Enola grinned. "I was just speaking to Molly-"

"I know, but now I need to work, so if you'd like to continue your female gossip that partly concerns my life- not that I care in the least- please continue it somewhere out of my earshot." Molly grinned at the response, shaking her head at the curly haired heartthrob as Enola gracefully left her seat to join her brother. Molly watched as she threw her arms around his neck. The pathologist's eyebrow's raised- she'd never seen Sherlock _not_ flinch or shove off any human contact.

"Come on, Sherly, don't be a party pooper."

"Enola, these are delicate experiments. Go away." Enola pouted before releasing her arms. She looked up at Molly.

"Does it surprise you that this is what I've grown up with? Trust me, if whatever you two are doing her actually works out, this is what you'll have to get through, at the most. It's what _I_ live with and I'm the _sister_!" Molly glanced at Sherlock, surprised to be met by his emotionless gaze. Molly wondered if she could ever stare like that.

Molly tore her gaze away and collected the finished paperwork in her arms. She looked up again, noticing the siblings talking in hushed voices. She slid of her stool and moved to send the papers to Mike's office.

"Molly!" The pathologist turned to the sound of her voice and grinned at the sight of her best friend.

"Hey, join me to get rid of this amazing set of paperwork?"

"Why not- okay back to the business. Molls, do you remember when I told about that kid? Lisa Morrison?"

"Scratcher or Biter?"

"Kicker. Honestly Molly, keep up. Anyway, mummy just had to bring ickle baby back to the hospital because baby had a little boo boo on her knee."

"Come on- couldn't have been that bad this time."

"The kid _kicked_ me in the hip and proud ole mummy decided her daughter was going to be tough competition in the fucking Taek Won Do team."

The pediatrician stopped and proceeded to lift her blouse slightly, revealing an angry purple splotch marring her tanned skin. Molly looked up at Mary, giggling.

"Don't laugh at my pain." Mary said, slapping Molly playfully.

"And you said _my_ job's morbid."

0o0o0o0o0o

The best friends strolled back to the morgue gossiping, until Molly stopped them.

"Mary, Enola's in there and-" Mary groaned.

"No- why?" she whined.

"Her time with the kids- look Mary, I don't understand what your problem is with her. She didn't abandon _you_, and we were _best_ _friends_ in college." Mary exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Honestly, Molly- how can you not see what's going on? I don't know why she's doing it, but she has something against you."

"What makes you say that?" Molly retorted. Mary glared at her friend. She loved Molly, but the poor girl was so naïve sometimes.

"Sweetheart, observe next time. I don't know how to explain it to you, but she's out to get you for some messed up reason. And trust me, I know when some bitch is trying her hand at my best friend." She watched Molly smile, but knew the pathologist hadn't bought it. Yet.

"Look, Mary, just be nice, okay?" Mary scoffed, as they stopped at the entrance of the morgue.

"I'll be quiet- unless provoked."

The morgue was a lot fuller than the last time Mary remembered. Sherlock (who she still hadn't had a decent conversation with- despite him being her boyfriend's best friend) was at his usual place in front of his microscope while Enola (eww) was tapping away at her smartphone next to one of the sinks.

The extra members were Charlie, Rachel and Micah- the former and latter who were seated on the floor, the teenager teaching the younger how to scribble on a piece of paper. The girl was seated silently next to Sherlock, a frown of concentration etched on her face.

"Hey Mary." Charlie smiled, standing up to hug the small pediatrician.

"Hey there," she said squeezing the boy before pulling away. Rachel bounced of her seat, walking over to greet Mary. The woman kneeled down as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her legs.

"Hello Mikey. How's my favourite boy been?"

"Hello Mary." The boy giggled before wrapping his arms around her neck. Mary smiled- why couldn't all her patients be like Micah Hooper?

"Molly," Mary wretched discreetly at the voice "good you're back- the kids refused to leave without saying bye." Mary watched as Molly _not_ observing the look of exaggerated annoyance cloud Enola's too pretty features. Molly really needed to listen to her advice. Soon.

"Oh _hello_ Mary! Long time no see!" Mary rolled her eyes behind Micah's head. Molly caught the look and glared. Mary rolled her eyes again before preparing her grin.

"Enola, hi- how's it going?" she grinned.

"Great, great." She answered, before glancing down at her phone. "Well we'd better be heading out then,"

"Of course," Molly answered "Bye you two- don't do anything I wouldn't."

"Bye Aunt Molly." The two kids chorused. Both walked up to their youngest sibling and pecked each cheek.

"Bye bye Charlie and Rachel." Micah said waving.

"Bye Kiddo,"

"See ya Mikes."

Rachel and Charlie left. Enola moved to wrap her arms around Sherlock's neck. The detective merely nodded curtly before shrugging her off. Mary smirked.

"See what I told you Molly?" Enola laughed as she winked at Molly. "See you soon!" she said before strolling out the morgue. Mary watched the entire show, before turning back to a glaring Molly.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Stop it, Mary. You're still not right." Molly hissed.

"So you do admit that I'm right then." Mary whispered back, smirking.

"Shut up, Mary."

"Still won." Mary said in her normal voice "Anyways, I'm off to the loo- be back in a bit and I'll leave Micah in the main pediatrics' office yeah?"

0o0o0o0o

John was annoyed. Very annoyed. It wasn't something to be surprised about, honestly. Not if one's roommate was the one and only Sherlock 'Boffin' Holmes.

The relationship John had with Sherlock was not new, in some aspects, to him. When him and Harry still lived under the same roof, little sister was the apple of Mum and Dad's eye. Never got in trouble- it was only bad John's fault. Not that he minded after a while.

John got to relive a variation of one of those memories just that morning. The only differences were that instead of Mum and Dad, John was shaken out of his morning Earl Grey and newspaper by the shrill scream of the wonderful landlady-not-housekeeper; instead of Harriet there was Sherlock; and instead of eaten cookies, the problem was the human brain in the fridge in the old lady's downstairs apartment.

"_Sherlock Holmes_! What in god's name is a brain doing in my fridge!" the distraught woman had yelled as she stomped up the stairs, her hand still placed over her heart.

"Sherlock's out at the morgue, Mrs. Huds-"

"John! Why can't you keep that boy in line for _once_? Honestly I'm renting my rooms to two little-"

The scolding went on for quite a few minutes, ending in mutual agreement that the brain was to be removed _immediately_ and that John was to supervise the detective at all costs.

John walked on towards the morgue, taking out his hand sanitizer and squeezing another dollop onto his hand. The bottle was already half empty, but at this point John couldn't care less- he hadn't a clue how _old_ that brain was, and the amount of germs and bacteria that lived on it.

"_Sherlock_- do you know how much trouble I got in today? What is _wrong_ with you?" the doctor exclaimed as he stepped into the morgue.

"The brain was found, I see?"

"What do you-"

"And you took it out?"

"Obviously Sherlock. But-"

"Where is it?"

"Sherlock this isn't the time-"

"_Where is it_?" John huffed at being interrupted once again. Sherlock had the behavioral mentality of a three year old.

"Kitchen table-where else?"

"Good."

John huffed again and turned around, realising for the first time that Molly was in the room.

"Hey Molly," John greeted, reddening slightly in embarrassment, "sorry you had to hear that" he said apologetically. Molly grinned back at him.

"Not the first time it's happened, you know." John laughed and returned the hug she initiated.

John watched Molly move back to neatening up her workstations. Ever since the 'Fall' as the tabloids had put it, John had to admit that Molly had become a hell load more confident, especially around Sherlock- and with the _thing_ (what else could he call it?) that the two were having now, he hadn't even seen her stutter or stumble _once_.

"Oh Mary's just popped off to the ladies," Molly said, breaking John out of his thoughts "she'll be back in a few."

"Great, thanks Molly." John beamed. Mary was great- _they_ were great. She understood him, and accepted him and Sherlock; things were always wonderful when she was around, and on top of everything, she was beautiful.

Mary walked in a few minutes later, immediately noticing him. He grinned as he walked up and pulled her into a hug. Her hair was down and in curls around her face, and she was dressed professionally in a plain purple dress and small black heels.

"Hullo," she greeted, pecking him on the lips. He could taste her chap stick and moaned slightly into her mouth before pulling away.

"Do you want to go over to that café across the street? I'm out of kids for today." Mary asked, grinning up at him.

"Of course, "he said before looking over at Sherlock "our talk isn't over yet, Sherlock," he said sternly.

"Yes it is." The detective answered tiredly.

"Molly, do you want to join?" Mary asked. John smiled at the pathologist as well.

"Thanks, but no- had a large breakfast today. You two lovebirds go enjoy yourself, yeah?" she said.

"You sure, Molls?"

"Of course."

John nodded before leading Mary outside.

The waiter walked away once taking their orders.

"What do you think is happening at the morgue?" Mary shrugged, looking over at John.

"Molly's either being insulted or surprised out of all our minds when she tells me later." John nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm scared for her sometimes, but I'm pretty sure Sherlock's intentions are good this time. I seriously hope I'm not wrong." Mary pursed her lips before looking up at John.

"I care about her as well, but can we _please_ not talk about that drama for a little while? I've so many better things planned." She said, sliding up the booth next to John.

"Do you now? Care to demonstrate?"

"Of course." Mary grinned before planting her lips on his.

John had many girlfriends, but Mary was the first to be so spontaneous and fun. His hands instinctively wound themselves to the back of her head and pulled her closer.

John felt fingers splaying gently over his shirt, right over his old battle scars. Those fingers soon bunched around his shirt before yanking him closer. John let out a surprised noise, breaking the kiss. Mary smirked and giggled before pulling herself up on John's lap. At that point, John was very glad the booths were far back and secluded.

Mary placed her hands under the hem of his shirt and slowly travelled upwards. She traced patterns over his scars as she leaned down and captured his lips again. John once again pulled her closer, flush against his body. His hand was travelling up her thigh, almost reaching the hem of her skirt, when a nervous cough sounded at the entrance of the booth.

The waiter stood there, his arms full with trays of plates and drinks, a very nervous and slightly disturbed look on his face. It was growing increasingly red, almost the same purple as Mary's dress when he saw where John's hand was.

"Your, ah, food and drinks, sir and m-ma'am." Mary grinned, turning around, earning herself a large gulp from the young waiter, John grinned, loving that his girlfriend was _his_. He smirked slightly at his little victory.

"Of course, just leave it on the table." Mary said, sliding of John's lap with practiced ease. She kept on leg wrapped around his as she leaned her head against his bicep.

"O-Of course." The waiter hurriedly placed the food and drinks down, muttering stuttered apologies everytime something fell or bumped against something else. Once he was finished, John could see that the colour had faded slightly from his face.

"Is that all?" he asked politely and calmly.

"Yes, it is- thank you, love." Mary answered grinning, before leaning up to John. The veteran caught another flushed look from the waiter- who was reddening once again- before the latter hightailed out of there. Mary leaned away giggling. John looked at her once before laughing out.

"That was mean, Mary." He said, lightly.

"Oh come on, you thought it was hilarious." Mary said looking up at him. John pretended to think for awhile before answering.

"Yeah, I guess so." He said, eliciting another laugh from Mary. Lord, how much he loved that laugh. He watched her, taking in her slightly flushed face, framed by her wild hair. He leaned down and captured her lips.

"Any reason for that?" Mary asked when they broke apart.

"Just a reminder."

"For what?"

"That despite what you do, you're still mine." Mary smirked, leaning up to peck him on the lips. She trailed kisses down to his jaw, stopping at his ear.

"I don't know," she whispered softly "I always thought about _you_ being_ mine_." John laughed.

"Maybe you're right." He knew what he said was completely false. There needn't be any thought put into it.

She _was_ right.

00o0o0o

Molly reentered the morgue, her hands carefully clutching two styrofoam cups of coffee.

"Here," Molly said handing over one of the cups to Sherlock's open palm.

"Thanks." He muttered halfheartedly, before looking back down at his microscope. They worked in silence for a while longer.

The cultures weren't changing in the slightest- absence and presence of light wasn't a factor; the next experiment was with temperatures. He couldn't use any of the fridges in 221 Baker Street- no definitely not, but maybe he could use one of the body lockers. Yes, it would be easy. Molly would meet him with some resistance first, but she'd-

No. Flirting with her for selfish reasons had to be beyond him by now. He couldn't be doing this to her- not if he was pursuing her. No- he'd find another way. Another problem was nagging the back of his mind. Based on what he'd heard today, Molly's friend, Mary, was definitely did not like his sister, and he could see by the looks she was giving Molly that the feisty pediatrician had warned the mousy pathologist against her.

"Your friend doesn't like my sister." He announced, peering over the top of the lens to observe Molly. Rather than the flustered look he'd expected her to adopt, the pathologist merely frowned and bit her lip.

"She doesn't. At all." A look of panic washed over her features "Don't tell Enola that, please." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her; they were exact opposites, even when it barely concerned her, Molly was still so considerate over other people's feelings. Sherlock on the other hand, wouldn't have cared less.

"Wasn't planning to. What about _you_?" he asked. Not that he already didn't know. Molly still reserved a few hard feelings for his sister after abandoning her brother (who had fallen into a drinking problem not long after) with two children. However, they were all very close in college, and Molly being Molly, she just couldn't stay that unforgiving.

"I don't know, Sherlock." she said truthfully. "Why don't you tell me?" The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in amusement. Sherlock recited what he'd just sorted out mentally. Molly nodded slightly.

"Thanks. Now I know. Again, don't tell Enola, please."

"Wasn't planning on it."

Again they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Molly was glancing up at him every few minutes, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Classic Molly sign of her wanting to say or do something but working up the courage to. Sherlock didn't bother egging her on- it was obvious what she wanted to know; what was their relationship status? Sherlock himself didn't know and knew that it would bug him until no end and he'd soon have to sit down and talk it out with Molly. Problem was, that day wasn't today. So he sat at his desk, feigning ignorance.

"My phone please, Molly." Sherlock asked after realising his hand was a few inches short of reaching the black mobile. He heard Molly leave her seat silently and grab it, before passing it along to Sherlock. Her fingers were soft as the brushed across his palm; he ignored the tingles he felt in his nerves, eventhough he was fully aware of them and what they meant.

"So what do you think of John and Mary?" Sherlock smirked to himself- he knew exactly what she was doing- she basically wanted his thoughts on relationships in general, and John and Mary's was merely and example. He would have to be careful.

"It was bound to happen." He answered easily. When he thought about himself and Molly, he decided that it was true. They were two adults of the opposite sex, working along side one another for almost five years. Let's also not forget that two of those years was spent with the man feigning death with only the woman and the man's brother ever knowing. This attraction for her _was_ bound to happen- It just annoyed him that he _let _it.

"Do you think they'll stay together for long?"

"It's obvious that they will. They have yet to realise it, but their feelings for each other have grown. They will come to their senses soon enough."

"What do you think about it?"

"What is there to think about?"

"Well, I know you never really liked John's other girlfriends."

"This one's less boring."

"So you _do_ like her."

"What makes you say I never did?"

"You track record with John's other girlfriends for starters and the fact that she isn't very keen on your sister." Molly smirked slightly at her last comment. Sherlock looked up at her. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. He just wanted to rip out the bloody tie that was holding back the soft curtain of curls. In the end, he merely shrugged to answer her previous statement.

"I don't bother taking part in relationships that do not involve me. She may not like my sister, but she isn't very boring, which deems her acceptable in my book."

Molly nodded before moving away. Sherlock mentally groaned- maybe today _was_ the day to sort out their relationship.

"I know that you want to know what our current relationship status is." Molly's eyes widened slightly. Sherlock sighed before becoming her to take a seat. She did, before looking back up at Sherlock unsurely.

"Well you are in love with me." he started, earning a slight wince from Molly. He felt a little guilty- was this what he made her feel like? He didn't want her to, that's for sure. The detective tentatively place his palm over hers, watching her eyes widen again. He was about to retract when he felt her fingers lacing around his. He looked down at their now intertwined hands; her small hands were soft and warm under his fingers.

"That, I believe, is the easy part." Molly snorted softly; Sherlock smirked. He watched as heat rose into her cheeks- not as much as before, but enough to notice.

"You want to know how I feel about you." He continued. Molly looked up and nodded.

"That's been on my mind." She said softly.

"I do not exactly _know _of my current-" he took a breath before continuing "-feelings for you." He watched Molly's shoulders slump slightly in disappointment.

"This is all still quite new to me and there is obviously a lot I have to learn, and I am sorry-"

"It's fine, Sherlock." she said, glancing down at her lap, where their palms lay. She looked back up at him.

"For now, just tell me this- and be truthful; are your _feelings_ for me more than or less than that you'd feel for a friend?" Molly sat there, her face surprisingly not giving anything away. Her lip was encased in her teeth again, but otherwise, she betrayed nothing else. Sherlock pondered, though he knew he didn't have to.

"More than." He answered finally. A smile quirked at he corner of his lips as Molly grinned softly.

"And the last thing- what are we? I don't have to know now, Sherlock- but I'm sure you know that our life goals in that area are considerably different. I need to know that if we continue whatever this is, that is doesn't-"

"-compromise what _you_ want." Sherlock finished. Molly nodded sheepishly.

He knew that Molly wanted a family at some point and probably a husband to go along with it. Was that what Sherlock wanted? Six months ago it would have been a definite no, but now, he wasn't so sure at all. Mycroft was almost certainly going to stay a bachelor and Enola was a woman- Sherlock sure as hell didn't want the Holmes family tree to end there- sure his good-for-nothing father had siblings and they had their own children, but the world could do without those idiots. Instead, it needed the more intellectually _capable _side of the Holmes family. He watched Molly as she shifted around in her stool.

She wasn't the classic definition of beauty- she was much to short, and her facial proportions were barely average. But despite what he had said about her in the earlier years, she was actually what most men would deem as pretty. But that was secondary to Sherlock- there was no doubt that his main concern was her being able to keep up in an intelligent conversation with him. That, was actually a problem already beginning to solve itself. Anyone could see that Molly had gained a truckload of confidence around him, and she was quite intelligent. If they were ever to have offspring he could be sure that they wouldn't be idiots, at least.

"I don't think that will happen." He said finally. Molly's face became a mask of surprise before morphing into a muted variation of happiness.

"Are you sure, though?" she asked seriously. He nodded, grinning at her wide smile. She leaned forward in her seat and wrapped her free arm around his shoulders before pulling away.

"Problem is, I'm not quite sure how this whole thing works." He felt Molly squeeze his fingers.

"That's fine- I'd be happy to show you the ropes." She grinned. Sherlock couldn't stop himself when he leaned closer. He planted his lips over hers softly and broke his hand away from hers to wind in her hair. Her arms wound around his neck. The kiss was very chaste, and both broke apart after a few moments. Molly hopped of her stool and made her way to the morgue entrance, where she grabbed her coat and belongings.

"I have to get back- I have to send Micah home. Micah's my-"

"-nephew, you brother's wife's biological son. I _have _met him, Molly."

"Of course," Molly answered, a blush rising in her cheeks "lock up once you leave?"

"Why don't I join you? Isn't that a good start to this relationship?" Molly laughed before nodding.

"Why not?"

0o0o0o0

Rachel and Charlie strolled up their driveway with Enola in tow. She smiled at her two children as the walked side by side. Charlie looked so much like a Holmes but had the personality of a Hooper, while Rachel was the exact opposite. It was so cliché how they turned out- just like in a novel.

A cab pulled up next outside the front gate, causing all three people to stop and turn around. A woman and a young boy stepped out, holding hands.

"Aunt Molly!" Rachel cried running up to the woman. Enola's eyes narrowed. There was another figure in the cab getting out- tall and male. It had better not be-

"Hey, Sherlock!" Rachel grinned, greeting her uncle. Charlie joined them, and the three were having a conversation. Molly led the little boy (Michael, was it?) up the driveway.

"Hey, Enola." She grinned.

"Molly! Fancy meeting you here!"

"Yes well, just dropping of Micah- we'll be off in a minute." Enola masked her annoyance.

"So I see Sherlock with you."

"Uh, yeah- just sharing a cab is all."

"I'm sure." Enola said cheerfully. Molly smiled and led Micah up to the door, before ringing the doorbell. Enola walked towards her brother and children.

Seriously? She was sharing cabs with her brother now. Why was this woman so dead set on taking away the one person who stood by her? Sherlock was going to get himself hurt- it was so obvious Molly had an ulterior motive behind everything. Probably for the fame of being Boffin Holmes' girl. Why couldn't Sherlock see? The again, men were always like that- that was why it was always so easy for Enola.

Enola watched the three people by the cab as the spoke about Mind Places and what not. Charlie was a carbon copy of her brother- it was actually quite adorable.

Molly interrupted them (rudely, she might add) after a few minutes.

"Micah's just gone in." she informed.

"Then we'd better get going as well- I see dad looking like he's about to fall asleep on himself." Charlie said, brushing himself of and beginning to walk back to the house.

"Night Sherlock, Enola." He said before moving to his aunt.

"See ya, Auntie." He said, leaning down to peck Molly on the cheek. He waved once more before jogging into the house.

"Sherlock, you have to teach me you deduction techniques next, okay?" Sherlock smirked.

"Of course- but only if you can keep up." Rachel smirked back at him.

"Keep up? I'll be better than you in the end." She said before hugging Enola.

"Bye, Enola."

"'Night Rachel." The teenager bounded up to Molly, squeezing the pathologist in a bear-hug.

"Oh yeah- I'm supposed to interview you for a school thing. Can I come over anytime soon?"

"Of course. Now go- your brother was right about your father. I could barely get a word in with him just now."  
Enola, feeling left out, butted in.

"How 'bout I walk you up?"

"Sure." Rachel said. Enola said her reluctant goodbyes to her brother and Molly and did her best not to think of the possibilities the rest of the night had in store for them.

Rachel bounded into her house, hugging her father and yelling goodnight once more. Matthew stood there in pyjama pants and a loose T-shirt. His hair was ruffled and he needed a shave. Enola could remember exactly why she fell in love with him.

"Thanks for getting them back, Enola." Matt said unsurely. Enola smiled.

"Of course, no problem." She swayed a little "Charlie's a lot like you, you know? And Rachel _looks_ a hell load like you."

"Yeah I guess," he answered, seemingly more comfortable now "but Rachel's more like Molly, I guess."

_Great,_ Enola thought _back to Molly_.

"Yeah, but Molly's a female version of you."

"Minus the blonde hair bit, but I guess you can say that."

"So anyway, I heard Rachel has to interview Molly- is it a careers thing?" Matthew yawned endearingly. He smiled apologetically.

"Sorry- a little tired. Uh no- not careers. She has to do a project for PSHE if I'm not mistaken about someone inspirational in her life who isn't her parents."

"So she picked Molly?" Enola couldn't disguise the hurt and anger in her voice. She knew she was only in their lives for a few months, but seriously? Wasn't she the best companion to her?

"Yeah- I'm not surprised, obviously. Molls is like a second mother and a sister to both of them. She completely dotes over them- they love her so much." He smiled.

"Matt- are you coming in yet?" a female voice called from inside the house. Soon a tall woman emerged next to Matthew.

"Oh, you must be Enola." The woman said a bit defensively "I'm Amelia, Matt's wife." She said. Enola looked the woman- she was pretty, blonde buxom. Matthew chose well, she'd have to admit.

"Come in soon, okay? I have to lock up." The woman said, before pecking Matthew on the lips. Enola felt her chest tighten- when was the last time she'd done that to Matt?

"Of course, sweetheart." Enola's stomach churned- Matthew used to call her love when they were together. Now his endearments were given to someone else.

'Well, I'd best be of- see you soon, Matt- nice meeting you Amelia."

Enola walked down the driveway and into her car. Everyone in her life had moved on. Even Sherlock was moving away- but he was going to get hurt, just like she hurt Matthew. And she'd never let that happen to her brother.

0o0o0o0o0

The cab pulled to a stop outside the large building. A slight drizzle had started, dampening Molly's jumper and hair when she got out. She thanked the cabbie, but was surprised to see Sherlock leave as well.

"Goodnight Sherlock." she said, unsure of whether to leave it at that, or to hug him or shake his hand or-

He covered their distance in one step and slid his hand around her waist before claiming her lips. She moved against him, responding eagerly. Their mouths opened together, and they battled for dominance. They broke away when a clap of thunder sounded through the night sky.

"You think to much Molly." He muttered, pecking her lips again. Molly giggled slightly against the Cupid's Bow, looking into his crystalline almond eyes.

"Speak for yourself." She laughed, pulling away.

"Goodnight, Dr. Hooper." Sherlock grinned before turning his back to her to enter the cab. She turned around to see his retreating back disappear behind the closed door. The cab pulled away into the distance.

"Goodnight Mr. Holmes." She whispered. He never _lied_ to her, and she was confident he wouldn't start now. So if what they were doing worked out-

Another clap of thunder and a sudden shower of rain drenched Molly out of her thoughts. She raced up the steps of her apartment building, the grin never leaving her face.


	19. Lead to Many Complications

Three months went by fast and effortlessly for Mary Morstan and Molly Hooper. Both were happy, with their work _and_ partners (Sherlock was never the _boyfriend_ type; and John, well John held that title many, so many times, the term was overworked to the point of exhaustion), and honestly nothing could go wrong at this point.

The two women sat opposite each other in their favourite café sipping their drinks as they watched the gentle, evening London rain drizzle on outside.

"Any idea when they'll be back?" Mary asked, setting down her drink. Molly laughed.

"Mary, you've asked me this for the _third_ time, today." She answered exasperatedly, as she set down her own drink "They've only just gone, and it's a number eight case, so maybe about another three days." Mary answered with a groan as she slumped forward and buried her face onto the table dramatically.

"But they've been gone for so _long_."

"They left two days ago, Mary."

"But we've never been apart that long!"

"Yes, you have."  
"But at least we were in the same damn city!"

"Oh come on, you big baby- lighten up. Look at it this way, when they come back, seeing him is gonna be all the more sweeter." Mary glanced up, her lips pursed. She blew air out in a huff.

"Fine. If you put it that way."

"Mary Morstan, I have never seen you more lovesick." Mary folded her arms across her chest, a mock glare in place.

"You're one to talk." She said, smirking. "Do _you_ miss him?" Molly snorted.

"'Course I do. I'm just not as dramatic about it as you are."

"Oh shut up."

Molly laughed. It amused her how much Mary missed John; there was a side of her that felt bad for her of course- it was the first case out of the city is relationships had been established. Then again, it was her's as well.

She didn't think she'd miss Sherlock as much as she actually did. The past weeks had been hilarious and adventurous- Sherlock doing domestic was certainly something that should go down in history. Mind you, it was one of those rare things the impossible man couldn't pick up in a heartbeat.

Still, there were certain subtopics in the domestic handbook that Sherlock excelled at. Molly smiled to herself and blushed as she remembered the night before he left for his case.

_He'd picked the lock and snuck through her front door, before making his way into her bedroom and flicking on the lights and gliding over to her bed._

_She'd mumbled sleepily before feeling a soft something closing over her lips. That had woken her up. She'd almost screamed before recognizing the smirk against her lips and the dark curls tickling her forehead and cheeks. Molly shoved him away, but only served to break the kiss; he was much too strong to actually push _off_ her. _

"_Sherlock for Pete's sake! It's the middle of the night- I thought you were a kidnapper or something! What is _wrong_ with-" her scolding was cut off by his lips reclaiming hers and his long violinist fingers tracing the lines of her face and neck and lower-_

"_Sherlock, seriously, we can't now-" she tried, in vain, as Sherlock went further with his ministrations. HE broke the kiss this time, his fingers still working their magic, and smirked at Molly._

"_Are you sure about that?" he asked. The smirk blew into a grin as an accidental moan answered his question._

_A few seconds later, the room was filled with moaning and harsh breathing. Both almost fell off the bed in surprise when a knock sounded on the door._

"_Wha-" Sherlock tried, words for once failing him. Molly sat up, pushing a now boneless Sherlock to the side, her eyes wide as she hastily straightened her nightshirt._

"_That's what I've been trying to _tell _you." She hissed. "Rachel and Charlie are here."_

_She tried her best to act as if she'd just woken up and motioned for Sherlock to go stand in a corner. The man instantly obeyed._

"_Hey, Rachel- was there something you needed?" The teenager glanced up at her aunt._

"_Uh, yeah- I just need some batteries. My reading light went out."_

"_Why aren't you asleep?" Molly asked. The girl shrugged._

"_Wasn't tired. And yes, Charlie's sleeping like the dead."_

"_Oh, great. Uh, okay, I'll just get those batteries."_

_Molly grabbed the batteries and shoved it into Rachel's hand._

"_Thank you -" Rachel smiled knowingly, "Sherlock, you can come out, I know you're there."_

_Molly's eyes widened, the blush immediately creeping up into her cheeks as Sherlock came into view, a mere look of curiosity (and was he impressed?) on his face._

"_Well, I felt indentations on the carpet in the shape of footprints, and Toby, who hates Sherlock by the way, is now curled up on my pillow. Simple, really." Molly stared, flabbergasted at her niece._

"_Quite good, I must say," Sherlock commented._

"_Yes, well, that and I can hear you two across the hall. And no, Charlie can't hear _anything_ over his own snores so no, _he_ didn't catch anything." Molly's voice came back to her._

"_Oh Lord, Rachel, I am so sorry-"_

"_Oh, it's fine- I know how tune things out. Just go at it however you want to, but spare Mary the details for when I am _not _around. I'll just keep my headphones on."_

"_But-but-"_

"_Goodnight, Aunt Molly." Rachel grinned, winking as she shut the door._

_Molly groaned, turning around._

"_I can't believe my niece, _our_ niece," she said, pointing at Sherlock "heard us almost have sex." Sherlock pulled her to him._

"_Yes," he said, pulling away and bending down to her eye-level "the key word in that sentence being 'almost'," he said pecking her, before taking her hands and pulling her to the bed._

"_Sherlock, our niece heard us- she _heard _us."_

"_Yes, Molly, and now she will tune us out and wear her headphones."_

"_But Sherlock-" another knock interrupted them, eliciting a groan from Sherlock._

"_For crying out loud. You two argueing is even louder than going at it. Sherlock's right. I'm wearing the headphones. See?" she cried out, pointing her finger's at her headphone-clad ears._

"_Good," she continued "Now _good _night to you two. And you are very welcome Sherlock." the teenager nodded, before slamming the door shut. Molly once again stared, this time at the brown wooden door._

"_Come on, Molly- you know you want to. I _am_ leaving tomorrow for a long time." Sherlock whined, his hands sneaking around her waist. She yelped as the detective lifted her up and dropped her onto the bed. He crawled up to her and grinned._

"_And I want to make every single minute of my time before then, count." He muttered, a feral glint in his eyes, as he leaned down to capture her lips._

"Watcha blushing at there, Molls? Thinking of your last time?" Mary said, interrupting Molly out of her daydream. The pathologist picked up her coffee and took a sip.

"No," she lied easily.

"Liar," Mary pointed out, grinning "Don't worry, I was too." Both women laughed, before lapsing back into conversation once more.

…

…

"Mr. Holmes, you are sure that it was Mr. Thompson Jr. and not Sr. who is to be arrested." Sherlock glared at the annoying walrus-like man in the bowler hat and shoe-brush moustache standing in front of him.

"Yes, he's sure. Sherlock is very sure." John answered easily for him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing to warn the temperamental detective against starting a fight. Walrus-Man coughed into his hand and extended the same one, to John's disgust.

"Well, then it was a pleasure working with the two of you. Good thing it was that DI Lestrade recommended you for the case. Not that we needed any help." Walrus-Man leaned in closer "I was on your side, even when the press wasn't."

Sherlock glared at the man. One thing he hated more than idiots were blatantly stupid liars- he hated those as much as he hated Anderson at times.

"Well that's wonderful." He answered, "Why don't you go tell your wife at home right now. I'm sure she and your brother would _love_ to hear all about it once they are done with each other for the day." With a flick of his Belstaff, Sherlock exited gracefully, leaving a spluttering Walrus-Man and incensed John in his wake.

"Sherlock, DI Jameson was just trying to be nice. There _are_ other people out there who believe in you, you know."

"Was that his name?" Sherlock asked avoiding the subject entirely. John sighed, patting his best friend on the back.

"Good job on the case."

"I know." John chuckled before letting his hand drop.

…

The next day, the doors to the morgue opened, startling Molly (causing her to squeak) out of her bench. The sight of a tall, Belstaff-clad figure caused her rate increase on her already drumming heart. She hopped of her bench and walked forward to greet him, a wide grin on her face.

"Sherlock," she greeted as said man came into view, already unwrapping his long scarf. He returned her grin with a winning smile and stepped forward, leaning down and pressing his lips against hers. Molly brought her hands up to his neck, only to be met by the soft fabric of his scarf. She grabbed hold of it, and yanked him closer to herself, earning a satisfied grunt in response as his own nimble hands fell away and wound themselves in her hair.

She pulled away, breathing heavily, still gripping the scarf.

"I missed you." She said against his lips.

"Good." He replied, leaning in to capture her mouth once again. She complied, eventhough she felt the slightest negative pull in her chest. Despite their steps forward, he still hadn't gotten to the stage where he could or would share his feelings with her. Molly pulled away after awhile, and stepped away, moving back to her work.

"Any particular reason why you're here?"

"Yes, actually, I have to start a new experiment." He smirked slightly at Molly's look of annoyance, but feigned ignorance.

Sherlock moved around, retrieving petri dishes and his microscope. He brought out his needed samples and proceeded to set them up the way he wanted them. As he worked, the detective snuck glances at Molly, who was trying hard not to show her annoyance at not being his number one priority. He knew she knew that he was trying his best, and so let him be and didn't retaliate.

Once he finished setting up his experiments and logged down initial results, Sherlock walked over to Molly, whose back was turned away from him.

Molly felt hands sneak around her waist, and jumped a little; she relaxed immediately once figuring out who it was. A pair of lips found their way to her ear and she shivered as Sherlock's hot breath tickled the her lobe.

"It takes time for results to show," he whispered softly, nibbling the shell of her ear and then soothing the reddening spot with a peck.

"I have quite a bit of time," he continued, pausing to encase his mouth around Molly's earlobe. He sucked; Molly sucked in as the air around her grew hotter

"to _kill_," Sherlock went on, after releasing her. He spun her around and pecked her on the lips, before placing butterfly pecks on her jawline.

"What do you think we could do until then?" he asked hoarsely as his lips made their way down her throat. Molly groaned, her legs involuntarily wrapping themselves around Sherlock's waist, her hands flying up to his mop of curls.

He grinned "Good answer," he muttered before kissing her collarbone. His lithe fingers began unbuttoning Molly's blouse when her hand stopped him.

"Sherlock, as much as I'd love to do this, we are in my workplace, so _off_." She said, shoving him lightly. He complied reluctantly, a pout on his bow-like lips.

"That's not working on me anymore Sherlock." Molly said matter-of-factly; Sherlock merely pushed his bottom lip out further, and curved the corners of his mouth in a 'hopeful' smile. Molly rolled her eyes. She never knew anyone could fall in love with such a child, let alone her.

"Okay, fine, maybe it will," she said, watching his face and eyes brighten "but not as well as it did," the brightness dimmed slightly and the pout came back into view. _Definitely a child_, Molly thought.

"It's probably because I haven't seen you in quite some time though. Look, take it this way. What just happened? That's a preview, if you come by my apartment later- okay?" Sherlock's grin was back again with full force and Molly laughed as he kissed her once again.

His lips parted hers as his hands cupped her face. Molly's palms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him down towards her. She moaned as his tongue wound its way into her mouth. It began it's exploration of the cavern. They fought for domination for a while; a winner not settled even when they came up for air.

"Fine," Sherlock said "But let's look at it this way. What just happened is a taster in what could have happened just then as _well _as tonight. See you later, Dr. Hooper." Sherlock smirked as he exited the room, leaving a slightly flustered, but mostly annoyed Molly Hooper.

…

…

"That movie was bloody amazing!"

"You've said that about five time, sis- and that was on the ride home."

"Language, Rachel." Enola said, smiling as she peered at the teenager through the rear-view mirror in her car. Rachel huffed.

"As if you really care about my language. It was still a great movie."

"Shut _up_, Rachel. "

"I don't think I shall." The girl answered, poking her tongue at her brother, earning a glare in return.

The siblings bickered until the car pulled up on the driveway of their home. Both scrambled out, pushing past their father as they blundered into the house. Enola strolled up casually after, an easy smile on her face.

"Evening, Matt"

"Enola," Matthew greeted, uncomfortably.

"Bickering the whole way home they were, and about a movie at that." Enola said, apparently oblivious to the awkwardness, chuckling.

"Yeah, uh, they do that." He said, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Enola didn't fail to notice and process his T-shirt riding up, exposing a sliver of his toned mid-riff for the world to see.

"A lot like us- remember how we spent a week arguing about whether a banana or pear was the better fruit?" Matthew laughed, remembering that particular memory.

"Bananas will always be the best, Enola." He said, his face going serious.

"Pears are healthier, _and_ tasty- so I still win."

"You never _won_!"

"Yes, I did." Enola retorted, matter-of-factedly, placing her hands on her waist and jutting her hip out for extra effect. Both adults burst out laughing.

"Where's the wife?" Enola asked, after sobering.

"Work, late night tonight and she's staying over at her friends, so it's going to be a lone night for this ranger, and I have no idea why I'm calling myself a ranger, and I am rambling. I should stop talking now." Enola chuckled as the man's face reddened considerably.

"Oh, that's a lone night for two of us then. Well, I'd best be going." Enola said, flashing a smile as she turned around.

"Wait, Enola," Matthew called out, stopping the woman "I thought- I just- um, would you like to come in? For tea, I mean?"

Enola grinned.

"Of course!"

…

…

John sat on Mary's couch in her apartment, waiting for Mary herself to come back from the kitchen. He mused to himself- he'd come to realise he was spending almost as much time in this flat as he did back at 221B. It amused him, just how much he got to see of his girlfriend, yet how much more he needed to see her. It was something he rarely felt with his other girlfriends.

Mary was different- he was sure of it.

Said woman reentered the room, a bottle of wine in one hand, and two glasses in the other. She grinned at John as she moved in front of him, making a great show of leaning over to pour the wine into the glasses. John hummed appreciatively, and grinned innocently when she turned around with two full glasses. He accepted the one handed out to him, and watched as Mary down hers in two large gulps. She leaned back down to pour herself another glass before falling back next to John.

John watched as she sipped her wine, a moan of appreciation escaping her mouth; the sound travelled, immediately, down south and it suddenly felt very, very hot. John grabbed the glass from Mary's hand, ignoring her protests, and set it down next to his on he table.

"John, I was drink-"

"I never knew moaning was a part of drinking." John interrupted as he pushed Mary against the sofa.

"John-" Mary tried as her head hit the arm of the sofa. John loomed above her, trapping her within his legs. He leaned down, peppering kisses over her face and neck.

"John."

"What?" he asked exasperatedly. Mary giggled under him, squirming slightly.

"I just never knew you could get turned on by me _drinking_."

"Oh Mary, I'm turned on thinking of you." He grinned, leaning down to kiss her again. Mary took one look at his dilated eyes- the irises just large black dots with a miniscule ring of deep blue- and leaned back up to meet him halfway.

…

…

Enola and Matthew choked on their wine, laughing, as they strolled back down memory lane. He was so into it, Matthew realised later, that he never figured out when tea turned into red wine in the first place.

Or when they ended up sitting right next to each other, knee-to-knee, on the couch.

"I loved those days. Pizza Pat. I can never forget her." Enola giggled, as she sipped some of her wine. Matthew mimicked her, though he could feel the alcohol flowing steadily to his brain.

"You were always so _mean_ to her, though."

"I was just brutally honest, Matt." She grinned, and Matthew couldn't help but notice the sparkle it brought to those beautiful blue eyes.

"That's one way of putting it." He said, teasingly. He nudged her with the side of his hip. Matt's slowly weakening common sense told him to stop, to get off, that this was not a good idea; yet he stayed put- he enjoyed the warmth of another person next to him, the laughing and sharing stories, the closeness…when was the last time him and Mia…?

Enola cracked a joke, Matthew laughed. Both gulped the remainder of their drinks in silence. Matthew stole a glance at the woman next to him and caught her doing the same. They held their gazes.

Matthew took in the blueness of her eyes, the paleness of her skin and settled his eyes on her lips. They were lush, bow-shaped, and pink. He remembered all the nights they spent sneaking into each others dorms back at uni; all the times, hushed, under sheets.

He imagined himself back at that time, when those lips were all his. The still-functioning part of his mind told him off, reminded him that he was _married_. Matthew snapped out of it, almost, but one look at Enola's face (had it moved closer?) made him relapse once more.

Where was Mia, anyway? Always working.

Never at home.

No more conversations.

Or kisses and caresses.

Nothing.

He was a man, right? A human being- he needed to be satisfied. That's right.

_Satisfied_, he thought, as he brought his gaze back up to her's. Taking away their empty glasses and placing it on the table, Matthew looked up, jumping slightly. Enola had moved closer, their noses now touching. She was breathing heavily, her eyes clouded and dilated.

Her hands moved up to cup his cheeks and her mouth crashed over his.

They were fierce, passionate and soon Enola was pinned to the cushions, Matthew hovering above her, shirtless.

"Bed?" she muttered huskily. Matthew groaned at the sex in her voice. He yanked her up and led her upstairs as quietly as they could've managed.

They stumbled into the bedroom. Matthew bolted it shut, and was pinned against it before he knew it. He pushed Enola off, yanking off her blouse as he did so and pushed her back until her knees hit the bed.

She fell back against the sheets.

No coherent thought past through his mind as he climbed over her, bringing his lips down to meet hers.

…

…

The next morning (thank god it was a Saturday), Mary sat at her kitchen table, her robe hung loosely over her shoulders, covering a random T-shirt of John's she found in her cupboard. She couldn't remember when his clothes were moved in but honestly she couldn't care less. They were far more comfortable anyway.

Mary walked into the kitchen, unfinished wine and empty glasses in hand. After stowing away the bottle and washing the glasses, she grabbed two mugs and began making two cups of Breakfast Tea, just the way he liked it.

She had just retrieved the newspaper from her front door and mixed the tea when John entered the room, eyes still sleepy and in his pyjamas, but hair combed and face shaven. Seemed like his toiletries were here as well. He may have as well been living there.

_No, shut up Mary. It's way too early. And besides, the female moves in with the male, but then again, there's no way I'm living in the same apartment as my best friends….partner._

The pediatrician shook herself out of her thoughts and grinned up at John as he leaned down to kiss her head, eyes still half closed. H never was a morning person.

"Tea's on the table." She said nodding to the mug in front of her as she opened the newspaper and sipped her own tea.

"Tea." John repeated slowly, before humming in appreciation when the word finally registered in his brain. He grabbed the mug and sipped at the drink. Mary could almost see the tiredness drain away. Tea was seriously John's elixir of life.

"Finally awake, huh?" Mary teased, earning a half hearted grunt in return.

"Last night was the first goodnight's sleep in three days. You'd think I'd get used to these out of town cases. I refuse to move an inch into a crime scene, I don't care what Sherlock does."

A chime sounded and Mary went off to retrieve her phone. She came back, reading a text.

"I don't think that's a problem." She said, grinning.

"Why?"

"Your best friend was just shagging it up at my best friend's apartment." She answered eyes glinting as she carried on reading. Her eyes lit up suddenly.

"Oh no way- there is _no_ way he would do _that_." Mary exclaimed suddenly. John perked up.

"What? What did he do?" Mary looked up at him, mock sadly.

"Sorry, love- girl talk, no boys allowed." She said before looking back down. She began typing furiously. John grunted before folding his arms. He looked up in alarm suddenly.

"Wait, what are _you_ saying? Are you talking about me?" Mary looked up again.

"Of course not." She said, the grin on her face betraying her lie. Mary stood up and walked in the direction of her room.

"_Women_." John muttered to himself.

"_What_ did you say?"

"Nothing, love!" John shouted back, panic beginning to take ahold.

"That's what I _thought_." John sighed in relief.

_Women._

…

…

It was dark when Matthew opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to get rid of the sleep. He scratched his bare chest and swung his legs over the bed, eyes widening when he realised he was naked.

Memories from last night flooded his mind. _Shit_, he thought as he glanced at the occupied other half of the bed. His wife's half. But the naked woman lying next to him was nothing _near_ his wife.

Matthew groaned, holding his head in his hands. He got up, looking aroun_d _for his robe. It was six in the morning.

"Nice arse you got there." Matt whipped around at the voice.

"Enola, you-you need to leave. Now." He said, grabbing his robe and yanking it on.

"What?" he heard her say. There was a confused and angry expression on her face.

"Enola, I have a wife. Kids. Last night, last night was nothing but a-"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me it was a mistake."

"It was, Enola."

"No," she hissed "tell me to my face, that you didn't feel anything last night. Tell me!"

"That's a loaded question. We had _sex_ for godssakes. Yes I was turned on, but it doesn't bloody mean that I want us to-"he groaned, ruffling his hair. "I love my wife," he continued "and I have kids-"

"_Our_ kids"

"But you never raised them. Mia is their mother much more than you are."

"How dare you. I _love _the kids." She got up, not bothering to cover herself as she went around the bed.'

"Look, we can be a family again, Matt. You, me, the kids. Just the four of us, how we always wanted it." Her eyes were hopeful as she gazed up at him, pressing her chest against his.

"Five." Enola looked up, confused.

"Five, Enola. I have _three_ kids. _Three_. Micah- Enola, you don't even know how many kids I have."

"Of course I did, Matt-"

"Enola, please, just leave. _Go_. I'll make you a coffee or some-"

"I don't want your charity, Matt. Just fuck off."

…

…

Later that day, Mary and John lounged on the couch, watching random rubbish telly.

"Molly's still with Sherlock at her apartment, believe it or not." Mary said during a commercial.

"Still?"

"Yeah, never knew Sherlock could do domestic."

"Me neither."

"You do though."

"What?"

"Domestic. You do domestic."

"Yep. It's the relaxed way. There's only so much running I can do." Mary chuckled lightly.

"Funny," she said, pecking him on the cheek.

"I prefer you with stubble." John looked at her.

"Stubble?"

"Yeah. Roughness makes you more manly."

"Are you implying I am not manly enough?" he asked, and eyebrow cocked.

"Let's not jump to conclusions, but you are the man who hangs out at the girlfriends apartment rather than vice versa. I've seen your apartment and spent the night a grand total of three times." John grunted.

"I'm just being a gentleman."

"Of course you are, love." Mary said, pecking his cheek again.

"I _am_." John said indignantly. Mary chuckled before snuggling against him.

"Never said you weren't."

"I _am_ manly." John said softly, as if to ensure himself. Mary laughed and leaned up.

"Of course- you are my manly boyfriend." She said pecking him on the cheek. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

"Good. Besides, I like your bed better than mine."

"Then why don't you just move in?" Mary couldn't have stopped those words even if she could've tried. She leapt up, hand over mouth. John was staring at her, wide eyed and mouthed.

"Oh god- I am so, so sorry. Oh god, forget I said that please?" Mary stuttered before power walking into the kitchen.

_Shit, shit, shit,_ she thought to herself as she opened the fridge and took a large gulp of water. Mary heard footsteps stop behind her and wished to the heavens above she had a TARDIS at her disposal- just to tell her past self to _not_ be so stupid. Who cares if she made a paradox? Paradoxes would be easier to deal with than _this_.

"Mary, we need to talk about this."

"Wha-What is there to talk about? I just made a little slip up."

"Mary," John said sternly, placing his hands on her shoulders, easing her onto a chair.

"Look, I made a small little mistake-"

"Why would you tell me to forget it?"

"Huh?"

"Do you not see us moving in together in the future? I don't understand- are you afraid of thinking so far ahead, or am I not good enough for you?" John asked, his eyes searching hers. He kneeled down in front of her.

"What? No! Love, of course not- I just-" she said, trailing of. John brought a hand to cup her cheek and lifted her face to his.

"You just?" he prompted gently.

"I thought _you'd_ think it'd be too early or that you'd rather us moving into 221B which I rather not do as we wouldn't really be alone, and I honestly didn't really want you to choose between me or your best friend because that's not fair on you and-" Mary was cut off when John's lips closed over hers. They pulled away a second later, John smiling.

"See, that wasn't so hard, yeah?"

"Yeah." Mary breathed. John's eyes crinkled (adorably, Mary thought) at the sides when he smiled.

"Good. Look- you are right. I'd love to move in, but I do have Sherlock as well. I am going to talk to him about this. Soon. Who knows? Now that he's got Molly, maybe he doesn't need me as much anymore." Mary smiled.

"Yeah, that's great." She said, pecking him on the cheek.

…

…

"Honey, why are there two wine glasses on the coffee table?"

Guilt rushed through Matthew's being, his stomach turning around in knots as he plastered a smile on his face.

"I just had a little drink last night." He called out. Mia entered the living room, holding two glasses.

"You drank from _two_ glasses?"

_Shit_.

"Uh, no. Um, I mean, yes. Yes I did. Uh, you see, I uh, thought that we could've had a little night in. I'd poured out the glasses when I realised you were staying over at Maureen's." the need to throw up intensified when a smile graced Mia's lips.

"Oh, sweetheart. Such a romantic. How about we have that night in tonight then?" she said, winking as she leaned over to peck his lips.

"O-Of course, honey." Matthew replied, swallowing heavily.

His children ran into the room. He barely listened as his family conversed, going through the motions as he seated Micah and brought out his youngest son's necessary toys and foods.

He stumbled; the Lego bricks landed on the ground in front of him, causing him to step on a few as his older children said 'Enola'. His children laughed at him as his wife fussed around for him, looking for the medical kit as she suppressed her own smile.

Maybe it was punishment for what he did, thought no punishment was harsh enough for what he did to his wife, and family, on their own bed.

Mia smeared ointment on the red indents and placed a plaster over the small bleeding wound that had appeared as well. She kissed the top of his foot.

"All better," she cooed to her husband before pecking his lips.

"I don't deserve you." He said softly. Mia laughed, moving in to kiss him again.

The phone lay there in his palm. He'd already chickened out on telling his wife, but he had to tell someone. Anyone. He already felt guilty about placing this burden on her as he dialed the number.

…

…

Molly stared wide eyed at her friend later that day, once the men had _finally_ left their respective apartments, as Mary recounted the earlier events of her day.

"Oh god Mary, this is _amazing_ news. I'm sure Sherlock would be happy for John; the same way I'm ecstatic for you!" she squealed, leaning forward to crush Mary in a bear hug "I can't believe this is happening! And soon you guys are gonna get married, and I'm going to be the beautiful maid of honour, and then the godmother of your amazingly adorable mini-Mary-John kids and-"

"Okay, Molly, retract the inner child in you, sweetheart; and I love how you turned my life into your story."

"Learned from the best." Molly retorted "But seriously, Mary, I am beyond happy for you."

"When do you think John's gonna talk to Sherlock?"

"I don't know, give him time. You have to be careful around Sherlock sometimes."

Molly's phone rang in her pocket.

"It's Matt, I'll be right back." She said before answering the call. Mary sat alone, daydreaming happily. Molly returned a while later, her mouth drawn in a slight down turn.

"Hey," Mary said, immediately concerned, "everything alright?" Molly looked up, a smile plastered on her face.

"What? Oh, yeah. I, uh, have to watch the kids next week, and I have a massive list, speaking of which I have a massive one tomorrow as well." Mary got the message, but knew there was something her friend was keeping from her. It didn't matter- Molly'd tell her in her own time.

"Of course. G'night, Molls- see you on Monday." She said, hugging her friend before walking out the door. Before leaving she saw Molly put her handphone to her ear and heard the beginning of what sounded was going to be an angry conversation.

"We need to talk."

Mary worried for Molly, but knew she wouldn't do anything rash and so she let it slide.

…

…

"Rachel, your turn on the dishes."

"Yes ma'am." Rachel muttered sarcastically.

She flipped the lever on the tap, letting the water rush through. Rachel took a break after finishing the plates and cutlery- she just had the cups left to do. Drying her hands, she put her hair up into a ponytail.

The girl frowned when an abnormality struck her sharp eyes. Leaning over the sink, she picked up one of the wine glasses and twirled it around in her hand, inspecting it thoroughly. She gasped, settling on her conclusion and dropped the glass into the sink, backing away.

She snuck upstairs (her parents were in the living room and their attention was _not_ needed right then) and barged into her brother's room.

"Rachel, what have I told you about barging in like this?" Charlie said exasperatedly. He swiveled in his desk chair to face her.

"Hey what's wrong? What did you see?" He asked when he caught her expression.

"Come on." Rachel said quietly, her voice cracking. She slapped herself mentally for being so weak.

…

"Rachel, what happened?" Charlie asked again as he was being dragged into the kitchen. The scared look on his sister's face was beginning to scare and worry him as well.

Rachel stood by the fridge and let go of Charlie's hand.

"Go look at what's in the sink." She said, facing away from said location, her arms folded and lips in a straight line. She was holding back tears.

Confused, Charlie did as she asked. There were five mugs from their drinks from dinner, two glasses from the ice teas Rachel and him had from earlier, and two wine glasses. Immediately finding the anomaly, Charlie picked the wine glasses up.

There were splashes of water on the outsides- residue from the washing up Rachel did prior.

But the were dry on the inside, and slightly sticky- the wine was from quite a while back, probably last night.

Charlie twisted them around in his hands, stopping when he saw the pink mark on the rim of the cup in his left hand. He set down the other, and began inspections.

It was a dark pink smear, shaped like a wonky semicircle- lipstick mark. Charlie's breath caught in his throat.

He wanted it to be his mum's, he really did. But how could it have been? His mum didn't come home last night. There was also the other glaringly obvious detail.

There's only one person who wears that shade of pink." He said, looking up at his sister.

"Enola." She confirmed.

…

…

It was a cold night, and the woman almost sighed in relief as she walked into the warm café. Her relief immediately spun into anger and hate as she caught sight of the person she was looking for, seated casually next to a window.

She stormed up to Enola.

"What the _fuck_, Enola." Molly snarled, slamming her purse on the table.

"Molly, what's wrong?" the other woman said, a look of surprised written on her pretty features.

"Don't give me that crap, Enola. Matt told me."

"Of course he would." Enola muttered.

"What the hell is wrong with you? He's _married_!"

"But he still loves me, why else would he have slept with me?"

"He was _drunk_, Enola. _Drunk._ You made him drunk didn't you?"

"How _dare_ you accuse me of something so…vile?" Enola smirked, looking at her nails. "Besides, what proof do you have?"

Molly stared, dumbstruck.

"Lord, Mary was right. You _were_ onto something this whole time!"

"I didn't do anything. I just jumpstarted the process where Matt remembers how much he adores me and leaves that wife of his so that the four of us can be a family, at last."

"You are completely mental." Molly hissed.

"Most geniuses are. Speaking of which, one last thing on my agenda."

"Enola, I couldn't give a fuck about your agenda. I came here to say one thing. Don't you _dare_ say a word to anyone about this. Let Matt tell Mia in his own time. Unless you want to break Rachel and Charlie's hearts."

"See Molly, you should let me explain. I won't breathe a word, and let the slow path cruise along as long as you break up with my brother. If you don't, well, Mia is going to have a very unpleasant meeting with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh come on Molly. You're not stupid. Dump my brother." She said, smirking as she slid out of her seat.

"What did we ever do to you, Enola?" Molly asked. Enola sat back down, smile plastered on her pretty face.

"You mean what did _you_ do? Well, how about the fact that you are the wall built between my family and myself. Oh Molly this, Molly that. Aunt Molly is the best! Molly Hooper, best woman in the world!" she said mockingly.

"You are tearing my brother, the one I have known for over thirty years and you for five, away from me. I just want him back. Now I have found my way. Goodnight Molly Hooper."

Molly had pulled out her phone by the time Enola made it to the door. The pathologist wiped away tears. She loved both her brother and Sherlock, but there was no choosing- there was only one clear option. She dialed the number and placed the phone to her ear, hoping her voice sounded normal enough.

"Sherlock we need to talk. Meet me at that café outside my flat."

…

…

"Maybe they just had a talk."

"Maybe." Rachel answered looking up at her brother. That _was_ a theory, but somehow both knew it wasn't the right one. However, instinct wasn't always correct. Sherlock had taught them that.

"I'm gonna go to bed, but this isn't over until we're sure." She said, getting up.

"No shit." Her brother sighed "G'night, sis."

"Night."

…

…

"I can't do this anymore." The words hit him, each syllable a metaphorical stab to his stomach and chest.

"Why?" he asked, keeping his voice even.  
"We aren't working well, because I-I-I keep wondering when. 'When is he going to dump me?' or 'When is he going to break my heart again?' and I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry Sherlock. I am so, so sorry." She said before getting up and walking away.

There were tear marks on table right in front of where she was just sitting. Obviously she was crying before he arrived. His seat was warm as well. She'd just met somebody. The detective gritted his teeth and stood up, leaving the café with the flourish and grace of the world's most and only heartbroken, confused and determined consulting detective.

…

…

"Mary, love- we're gonna have to postpone this moving in thing."

"What? Was it something I did?"

"No, no 'course not. You haven't heard? Molly's broken up with Sherlock. I just think I should stay here for a while. Just to be sure."

"I have to go, John. G'night and s'alright, don't worry- you're just being a good friend."

_You have one new message from: _Mary xx

**MOLLY HOOPER WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?! NOT ONLY HAVE YOU MESSED UP UR LOVE LIFE UVE GONE N DONE D BLOODY SAME WITH MINE. YOU'D BETTER ANSWER THIS WITH CLEAR EXPLANATIONS.**

**-A VERY PISSED AND CONFUSED AND WORRIED MARY**

_You have one new text: _Molls xo

**I'm sorry. I swear I'll xplain tmrw. Pls. **

_You have one new message from: _Mary xx

**You'd better. Sry 4 d outburst. Im worried 4 u sweetie.**

Molly switched off her phone, tears streaming down her cheeks as she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.

She was definitely going to find a way to sort this mess out.

**So...I realise i haven't updated in forever...and I am very, very, very, so, soooo sorry. But here are two long chapters- how'd you guys like Enola now? ;) I hope these chapters weren't too bad- reviews are welcome. and if you find that my writing is so horrendous it deserves to be cyber-cremated, feel free to flame- I welcome ALL with open arms.**

**Btw, i just want to know who reads these ANs, so if you do just type 'Wholockian' at the end of your review :)**

**THanks for sticking around**

**-Ash :)**


	20. Awkward Times

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: okay, before SHOUT-OUTS, there is something important I have to address that I just found out, thanks to a kind reviewer. So there is a mystery novel series centering around girl detective Enola Holmes, sister (and 20 years junior) to world famous Sherlock Holmes. To those ****reading, Enola Holmes is NOT my OC ENola- I swear, the name was a coincidence when I was anagramming once! Please, if you read that series, my Enola isn't MEANT to be anything like the other. Just keeping that clear. thanks :)**

**Shout OUT time!**

**deadgurlagain: thank you, so much. Will get to that soon! **

**magicstrikes: yes, well, all things come with a price! don't worry, something WILL be done.**

**AdaYuki: haha thanks, hate her as well (and she's mine :P)- hope i didn't make you wait too long!**

**Guest: she will, no worries. Sherlolly 'til the end!**

**HanGin: Thank you, it's nice to know my humour isn't the bad kind :P. Well, Enola isn't the average warm-hearted person. OH NO worries whatsoever- I've seen how those crossovers have turned out. Both shows are great, but no way Jose. Besides, if anything, Sherlock is in a different universe, and, well, we can't go universe jumpin' now can we? :P**

**MorbidByDefault: Awww, i will- don't you worry. Enola shall be taken down...or will she? Haha, enjoy this chapter!**

**Rocking The Redhead: Wow, I have made her into a bad, bad person, haven't I? but then again, not much to go up against the wrath of SHerlock, Rachel AND Mary!**

**KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun: Haha, nice username there- thanks for reviewing!**

**Renassiancebooklover108: AWWW thank you so much! If you're still reading, hope you enjoy this next chapter! :)**

**Guest: DOn't worry- all will be resolved. HOpe you like this chapter!**

**Kat: it IS an amazing world, isn't it? Fantastic, BRILLIANT in fact ;). Thanks for the LOVELY review!**

**Yay: thanks for telling me about that series- honestly, I had no idea it even EXISTED. Thank you so much though- I had no idea i could've been confusing A LOT of people.**

**okay, back to the story!**

"You can't tell _anyone _about this."

"_Excuse me_?" Mary exclaimed. She was shocked and disgusted enough with the story, but Molly's sense of logic was making her downright sick.

"Mary, we've been through this- I'm doing this to keep my brother's relationship safe. If anyone finds out, if she finds out _you_ found out, it's over."

"I don't see why you're taking this fall, Molly. You love him, and last I checked this is your brother's fault. Does he know about this by the way?" Molly sighed, wringing her hands nervously.

"Molly." Mary said, her tone serious.

"_Molly_." She repeated warningly forcing her friend to look up at her.

"No, no, I didn't."

"What the hell, Molly- he's the reason this shit is _happening._"

"_Exactly_." The mousy woman replied, "Exactly why," she continued, her voice raising volume, "I can't tell him. Don't you see how much more pressure it'd put on him? How much _worse_ he would feel? He loves his wife, Mary, he does." She let out a humourless, sarcastic laugh. It was nothing like Mary had heard her friend before.

"That's her plan. Enola- she's a Holmes. She may not have seemed it, but she's smart; and she's caught me trapped alone in a corner." She sniffled, a tear dripping of her cheek and onto the sleeve of her jumper "just like her brother."

The tears carried on pouring down her face and Molly raised her arms to shield her weakness from her best friend. Mary moved across the bed and held her tightly, cooing as she rubbed her back; trying to soothe her grieving friend.

"You can't tell anyone, Mary. I'm sorry," Molly said, cut off as she hiccupped in between sobs "especially John. Please."

"Of course, sweetie, of course."

"Promise."

"Promise."

…

…

It was a cold, windy afternoon, but no one could say no to ice cream. The siblings strolled through the small park, clad in their jumpers and scarves, licking their respective cones.

"Be careful you lot!" Matt yelled as his children jogged off by themselves to the mini playground. A wave of Charlie's hand signaled their acknowledgement to their father's order.

Molly and her brother settled comfortably side-by-side on a small wooden bench,

"Have you told her?"

"Straight to the point as always, sis." Molly sighed in disappointment. She just wanted this to be over.

"It's been three weeks, Matt. Three. The longer this goes on, the more painful it's gonna be when she finds out." She urged. Matthew clenched his jaw, looking upwards.

"Yeah, but, I've been thinking, Molls," he said, turning to face her "what if she _never _found out, you know?" Molly's eyes widened.

"What? Matthew, no, _what_? You have to tell her- what if she finds out herself?"

"How is that going to happen?"

"Let's not forget that what you did involves _two_ people."

"Molly, Enola hasn't mentioned a single thing- not for the entire three weeks."

"Yes, but," Molly, stammered, racking her brains for an argument "what if she's waiting to make it more painful when she goes for the kill? For all we know she's going to try getting to you when you're at your lowest." Matthew chuckled.

"Come on, Molly- do you really think she's capable of that?"

Sirens filled the air, piercing the calmness, followed by yelling and a blur of police officers chasing someone through the park. People's attentions, including Molly's and Matt's, were immediately set on the dramatic scene.

"Sis, they're headed to the playground- the kids are there." He said as he grabbed his sister's hand and ran.

There was a large crowd of people surrounding an area next to the playground. A line of police officers was trying in vain to keep them away. Molly spotted her nice and nephews and guided her brother towards them.

"What's going on?"

"The police have caught some guy." Rachel answered absently, her eyes trained on the struggling, about-to-be-handcuffed, yelling man.

"Excuse me, excuse me, _move_." A voice rang out. A bushy head followed the sound.

"DS Donovan, let me through" said woman muttered to the officer blocking her, immediately granting her access.

Molly moved closer to pull her family away, trying not to get noticed by Lestrade, who she'd just noticed yelling at the suspect in handcuffs. She hadn't spoken to anyone since her breaking up with Sherlock. It was a thankful quiet three weeks of heart attacks, cancer and accidents in the morgue.

"Guys, come on- not our job here." Molly muttered, pulling her reluctant niece away. The rest followed as well.

"I want an ice cream." Micah announced.

"So do I."

"Me three." Rachel and Charlie followed. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Another one?" he asked. The puppy-dog looks that followed forced both adults too laugh.

"Here you go- we'll catch up with you outside the shop." He said, handing them a fiver. Molly smiled as the kids ran off.

"It would kill them if they found out from someone not you." She stated.

"Molly, not this again. Please. Just leave it. It's my problem."

"Yes, and you're my brother. I care about you. Your relationship matters to me- and keeping this from Mia will only serve to make it worse!" she said, her voice raising volume and octave.

"And you know _everything_ about relationships, don't you?" he said, whirling on her. The anger in his voice and features forced Molly a step back.

"Your relationships never lasted, and who was there to pick up the pieces? Especially with this Sherlock you've been in love with for five years; and you _dump him_ after _weeks, _goddamit. Where's the logic in that? Don't you dare talk to me about relationships, Molly."

Matt turned back around and stalked off as Molly buried her head in her hands.

"Oh there's a lot of logic in that." Molly muttered. She heard footsteps jogging up behind her and straightened, taking a deep breath. A finer tapped her shoulder.

"Greg! Hi! It's been sometime." Molly smiled, hugging the Inspector "You here for that, then?" she asked, pointing to the place where the man had been arrested. Greg chuckled.

"Yeah. Who would've thought it was the driver? We wouldn't have solved it without Sh-" Greg cut off, choking, his eyes the size of golf balls, as he realised his mistake. Molly pursed her lips, before smiling to cover up the awkwardness. Greg cleared his throat.

"Molly, hi." A voice said from behind Greg. A very recognizable one.

"John, hey." Molly greeted, pecking him on the cheek. The trio stood awkwardly as silence blanketed the air around them.

Molly stole a glance behind her. Matt was a few feet away, trying to juggle both an ice cream _and_ Micah in his arms. Charlie and Rachel were staring inquisitively at the awkward trio. Molly caught her brother's eyes and gave him a pointed _save-me_ look, before turning back around.

…

"See that look she gave dad? What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Dad, what's up with Aunt Molly?" Charlie asked, swallowing the rest of cone before retrieving his brother from his relieved father.

"Oh well," Matt said once he got control of his cone "Molly has broken up with Sherlock."

"What?" Rachel said, looking up in shock "Why would she do that?"

Rachel and Charlie looked back at the huddled group.

"It has something to do with Enola being over at our house the other night, I'm sure. Nothing else makes sense." Charlie whispered to his sister.

"Isn't that obvious enough?" she answered "And as much as I would love to help, and we will-" Rachel smirked; Charlie groaned "-I need some amusement" she said "and maybe just do a little something to kick things off."

The girl reached down to fiddle with her foot, before jogging to the group without a glance back, her smirk widening as she caught sight of the tall dark figure closing in as well.

…

…

Molly almost cried in relief when she felt Rachel next to her. At least now she could forge an excuse.

"Rachel! How've ya been?" Greg asked, stepping forward to envelope the small girl in his arms. Rachel giggled.

"Just fine, thanks." She said, grinning.

A baritone broke through.

"John, if we don't leave now, feel free to _walk_ home" Sherlock said, as he loomed into view, eyes trained on John. Molly, sucked in a breath to stop herself from squeaking, or crying, or laughing.

"Hi Sherlock!" the man in question tore his annoyed gaze from John at the sound of his name. Molly threw a glare of her own at her niece, who winked and smirked in return.

_This would be a great time for a natural disaster_ Molly pleaded to the sky as Sherlock noticed her for the first time.

Time stopped for a few moments as Molly took in the man she loved. His eyes were still blue as ever, wide in slight surprise, with hints of stormy grey swirling inbetween. She blinked when those hypnotizing orbs narrowed, and broke her gaze, focusing instead on his feet.

"Molly." He said her name as a blunt statement- an observation with no apparent meaning behind it. Lestrade coughed into his hands while John looked on nervously between the two, ready to jump in to either's defense.

"Aunt Molly, we really have to get going." Molly almost cried out in relief.

"O-Of course." She said. Her friends, and Sherlock, looked on for an explanation; thankfully, her niece was there to intervene.

"Granny's been calling dad a million times. Said the soups gonna get cold if we don't get to her house soon."

"Oh yes," Molly smiled, playing along "Family lunch. We really do have to get going. See you." She said, leaning over to hug Greg and John goodbye. Molly daren't meet Sherlock's gaze but instead looked down to her niece, who was kneeling on the ground.

"You coming, Rache?"

"Uh, yeah- just need to get this shoelace. Tell dad- I'll catch up."

"Of course," Molly said, before all but running towards her family.

…

…

Rachel got up, dusting herself off.

"Well, I'd best get going- got lots of paperwork to fill out." Greg said.

"See you around Greg." Rachel replied, watching as the man walked off back to that annoying partner of his. She turned back to John and Sherlock, the latter of which watching her with curious and suspicious eyes.

"Well, I'd best be off." She smiled, waving as she backed away.

"But I have to tell you, Aunt Molly doesn't do anything without a _good_ reason. Is it the logical or the right one? Maybe not. But she does what she thinks is right." She sucked in a breath.

"And I think, in this case, the reason is your sister, Sherlock."

The teenager nodded to the two men, on confused the other blank, before sprinting of back to her family.

…

…

John entered the living room, another distressed expression on his worn face- Sherlock was still curled up against the left arm of his chair, legs brought up to his chest, arms hugging knees, eyes closed, face void of any and all expression.

The exact same position the consulting detective was to be found in for the past couple of weeks.

Sherlock felt his blogger's very depressed presence before the blogger noticed him. It amused him, John's feelings- it wasn't John who was left (high and dry, was the slang nowadays, Sherlock presumed) by the woman he had feelings for, for no logical reason.

That was what bothered him. For all her faults, he had to give that Molly was a logical, smart woman. And a reason like 'she was too scared of the future'? Come on.

And the girl, Rachel- she was smart, a lot like him in many aspects. Sherlock has come to the conclusion that her and her brother- his niece and nephew- had taken the trait both the Holmes brother's had inherited. His sister- what could she have to do with _any_ of this? Maybe it was just the teenaged conspiracy-loving girl in her. She still had some maturing to do. But what would have brought her- someone who seemed to be taken with his sister- to that conclusion, and-

A familiar aroma wafted up his nostrils, jerking the detective out of his thoughts. His eyes peered open, immediately catching the familiar jacket and checked shirt that belonged to John.

Said man was holding out a mug to the detective.

"You're drinking this Sherlock."

"I don't want any."

"Yes you do."

"John how are you to know-"

"No Sherlock. You haven't eaten in ages. Just drink it. It's coffee. Not drugged or anything. Black, two sugars."

Sherlock glared at the mug before untangling an arm to grab it. It was true- his body was physically drained from lack of nutrition. He downed the scalding liquid in two gulps, scowl in place.

It wasn't bad coffee, but it wasn't coffee he was accustomed to. No, that coffee was made by Molly.

"Sherlock we need to talk"

"About what"

"About, well-"

"John, I can assure you that there's nothing-"

"Sherlock, you've just been dumped. And you like her. No don't give me that look- I'm not as dim as you think. You need to talk about it."

"No I don't, so no, I won't."

"Sherlock-"

"Shut up John."

"Sherlock you have to-"

"No I don't."

"Sherlock-"

"Bored."

"_Sherlock_-"

"_Bored_!"

Both men were on their feet, staring each other down, daring for the other to look away first. John admitted defeat, slumping his shoulders, eliciting a smirk from Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you're not normal, and you claim to not have feelings, but I know for a fact that you do. If you're not comfortable talking, then fine. I'm just saying it'd be good to vent sometimes." John sighed at the detective's glare.

"Look," he continued, "I'm your best friend. And I'm here, anytime. If you ever want to talk about her."

The doctor turned around and began walking away.

"I-I miss her" Sherlock spluttered, somehow not regretting the fact that he'd unintentionally voiced his thoughts. John turned, his surprise masked hastily with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm not surprised." The doctor said, moving to the couch. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

"I don't like not knowing." Sherlock started hesitantly. John cocked his head and smiled encouragingly, urging him on.

"There's always something. I want to know why. Why she- why she did what she did. Was it me? Or her? There is always one little detail. In this case it doesn't prove to be **so** small."

"I know. It's very annoying when they don't give a reason." John answered. Sherlock nodded.

"Very." He agreed.

"It also sucks. A lot."

"For lack of a better word, yes. It sucks." John couldn't have masked his giggling if it determined the fate of the world.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked, frowning.

"Sorry," John said, spluttering "I just never thought I'd live to see the day Sherlock Holmes said the word 'sucks'. How do you make EVERYTHING sound so bloody _posh_?"

"Posh." Sherlock echoed, watching his friend choke as he tried to sober himself.

"You know, maybe Molly just isn't the one for you." John said once he'd calmed. He got up from his seat and moved to the door "But maybe, if you really like her that much, you could always win her back." He said teasingly, before exiting the apartment.

The detective wrinkled his nose at the shut front door, before making his way to the window. He flung the glass upwards, before leaning out for a breath of fresh air. He sniffed a few times before casting his alert eyes. Two students (a couple playing hooky from school to be together, he deduced, snorting at the idiocy and sentiment) were leant against the wall of the building, snogging. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Intercourse in an alleyway- a brilliant place to avoid peering eyes- how crude.

Sherlock leant over the ledge of the window, his chest, neck and head dangling in open air.

"_BORED_!"

The teenagers jumped apart, looking around frantically as they adjusted their clothing- the boy zipping his trousers, the girl rebuttoning her blouse.

"_BORED_!"

The male of the pair yelped girlishly as his partner found the source of the yelling. Both muttered swears as Sherlock grinned ferally at them. He'd never seen anyone run as fast as those two. The boy tripped over himself, landing in a puddle of mudwater. Sherlock moved away from the window, truly bored from the now slapstick entertainment below, and flung himself back in his chair.

Now that his entertainment meter was fulfilled temporarily, Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and lapsed into his meditative thinking position.

_if you really like her that much, you could always win her back._

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. Now _that's _an idea.

…

…

**so chapter 21 is ****underway, and I am truly sorry about this, but I can only HOPE to put it up SOME time next week. School year's ending and final's are right round the corner. I'm going to do my best in between revision sessions.**

**And to all fellow WHOVIANS: good luck, Saturday night (Sunday morning, if you're halfway 'round the world, like I am) as we learn the name of the Doctor; and Clara. Honestly- who IS she?**

**We'll see I guess *cue suspenseful music***

**I would LOVE 8 reviews this chapter- is that possible? *puppy dog eyes, activate***

**Thanks readers!**

**-Ash :)**


	21. Smart Cops, Evil Villainess

The pathologist winced as her ribcage was crushed by long, skinny arms. The crusher pulled back, her usual sparkling smile in place.

"Enola." The pathologist greeted coolly before looking past her.

"Hey there," she smiled, hugging her niece and nephews as they ambled into her apartment. She took Micah from Charlie's arms and adjusted him so that he sat against a hip as she braced his back with her arms.

"Mary! It's been ages!" Molly eyes shot up, inwardly groaning. Her friends face was a glowering mask of hatred but a warning look from her merely morphed it to a calmer stony gaze instead.

"Hi." The pediatrician said slowly, looking the tall lady up and down.

"How are you, by the way, Molly? I heard about your _thing_ with Sherlock. Poor honey, don't say I didn't warn you though."

Molly was very, very close to slapping the woman. Why were her brother's children right behind her?

Putting on a well-rehearsed fake grin Molly replied "Oh, I'm fine- I'll get over it soon enough."

"And she wouldn't need to if-" Molly reached behind her and pinched Mary as hard as she could to stop her from finishing that sentence.

"_Ow_!" Mary exclaimed "Sorry, bug," she explained, catching everyone's surprised looks.

"Look, Enola, I'd invite you in, but,"- _you're a bitch who is blackmailing me into exterminating any chance of a relationship with the one man I actually love_- "the kids can't be distracted, not with finals coming up. Plus it was a long day at work."

"Of course, Molly. You take care, sweetheart." Enola replied, 'sympathetically'.

The three women hugged (reluctantly) and Enola exited.

"Okay you two, get yourselves and your brother changed and we'll get you some dinner." Molly instructed, handing Micah over to Rachel.

"I am going to slit that whore's throat if it's the last bloody thing I bloody do!" Mary hissed as soon as the three children had left the room.

"Mary, shut up- and mind your language when they're around, for godssakes!"

"They're not going to hear!" the sound of water rushing from the guest bathroom sounded, emphasising Mary's point.

"Molly, when is this going to be over?"

"When Matt tells Mia."

"And _when_ is that happening?"

"Give him time, Mary. This is big. Just give him time. It's my problem anyway."

"Your problem?" Mary asked, her voice rising, "Molly, your problem has led to my problem. John being the saint he is won't leave grieving Sherlock's side 'cause he feels bad. So he's not going to move in unless: a- Sherlock gets over it or b- you get back with the bloody man; and honestly, the prospect of 'a' isn't bloody likely!"

There was a shuffle, near the kitchen and both women turned their heads to follow the sound. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, they turned their gazes back at each other.

Molly saw anger and sadness mixed into one depressing mask. She never realised that this was taking such a toll on not just her or her brother but her friend.

"Mary, you have absolutely _no_ idea how sorry I am, you know I do- but he's my brother, and I can't just leave him like this. It's not right."

"What's not right, Molly is you- and I- taking the fall for _his_ mistake."

"I know, I know; god, Mary- I'm just so sorry." Molly let out a sob as Mary's arms encased her.

"Hey, it's okay, love, seriously. Just breathe. It's not you who should be sorry about this."

"Sometimes I wish Enola just stayed away from our lives, then none of this would have happened."

"It _is_ her fault, all of this."

"But the kids love her. Especially Rachel- she'd be broken if she found out about this."

"It still doesn't hide the fact that she's a b-"

"Language, Mary. Yes, but can you blame her? She and Matt were in love at one point. I don't think she ever let that go."

"Oh Lord, Molly- can please, for once, take a break from being Ms. I Love Everyone, Even If She Is A Crazy B-"

"Language."

"-itch Who Is Threatening Me And My Family _And_ Is The Reason I Dumped The Man I've Been Pining Over For Two Years-"

"This is a really long title you're giving me."

"-_And_ Is Jeopardizing My Best Friends Amazing Wonderful Relationship; and be normal like everyone else, and fuel all your sadness into hate and hatch up a plan of revenge. Please?"

Molly laughed, cheering up slightly.

"You know I can't. I'm just too nice."

Another scuffle came from the kitchen. Molly frowned, and edged towards the sound. Toby ran out of the open door, scuttling into Mary's shins, yelping at the surprise contact.

"Oh, Toby, you make a horrible eavesdropper." Molly chuckled as her best friend picked up the over weight Tabby. A room door shut.

"The kids are probably done showering. No more talking on this subject 'til they're gone. Understood?"

Mary nodded, smiling sympathetically.

…

…

"You _have_ to be the _worst_ eavesdropper known to mankind." Charlie whispered, exasperated.

"Yes, well, at least I'm a fast thinker- and it's _not_ my fault the bloody cat scared me."

"It was your fault for _being_ scared."

"Oh shut up. We have much more pressing problems."

Rachel scrunched up her nose, replaying the conversation the two women outside just had. There was no point in questioning it now: Enola was the reason the Sherlolly ship (tumblr was taking a mental toll on the girl) was now sunk and buried under layers and layers of angst and confusion; and her father played some part, unknown to even him, in this.

"What could Dad do that's so bad it's now being used as blackmail over Aunt Molly?" Rachel questioned.

"Something from his Uni days?" Charlie put in.

"No. Can't be something so…"

"Mundane?" Charlie filled in.

"Yeah."

…

Silence filled the room. Charlie sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed. He stared at the blue blanket on the mattress before closing his eyes.

His Mind Palace was more of a large estate, rather than a single palace, house or mansion. He liked it that way- spread out and organized.

The main mansion was surrounded by mini guesthouses, as Charlie preferred to call them; one for each person he deemed worthy. Ignoring all of them, he walked to the front door of the large mansion and entered.

Charlie walked on with a purpose, standing in front of a calendar hanging on a blank wall. Flipping through the pages he looked for any date he thought stood out, anything that would give him a clue. He stopped at a date, approximately three weeks ago. While the other numbers were printed in black, this was in bright pink.

Then it clicked.

He turned and ran, evolving the blueprints of the mansion to get to his destination faster. Taking a sharp left turn at a corridor, he skidded to a halt. The kitchen.

Turning back his mental clock to the date he wanted, Charlie began poking around, looking for what he wanted. He raised his head, remembering exactly where it was, and made a beeline for the sink.

Upon reaching the metal basin, Charlie dug his hands underneath the dirty plates, fishing around for what he was looking for. His hands clasped around a pair of thin glass stems.

Bingo.

Fishing them out, Charlie inspected the wine glasses, drained and empty, but not washed. One with an evident lipstick mark.

Enola's too be exact.

Charlie walked over, carefully, to the rubbish bin. He lifted the cover, sighing as he saw what confirmed his suspicions. Amongst the rubbish lay a lone, empty wine bottle.

How couldn't he have pieced it together sooner?

Collecting his thoughts, the boy took a seat at the dining table, mulling over his thoughts.

He didn't need to make a trip to his father's guest house to know that Matt was a neat-freak, therefore there was no logical explanation as too why the glasses wouldn't be clean, unless of course he was physically unable too. Obviously, that wasn't the case.

So he was drinking with Enola, but forgot to wash the glasses. Innocent enough, so far. But Matt wasn't much of a drinker and the entire bottle had been drained. Was he too drunk to have done the dishes? Maybe; probably.

Mia was working overnight that day, so it would've just been Charlie, Rachel and Dad at home. Seeing that it was a tiring trip, both Charlie and Rachel were stone cold the entire night. What could've happened?

Dad got drunk. That was one conclusion. It explained the empty bottle and unwashed cups. But Enola was holding this over Aunt Molly's head. What is so bad about being drunk, really?

Unless it was what happened _after_ that mattered.

It made sense, Charlie realised as he received a subconscious blow to his stomach. But if this was true, if what he thought was true…he didn't know how to respond to his own thoughts.

Standing up abruptly, Charlie walked out of the house and soon, out of his mind palace. He opened his eyes, greeted by his sister's dark ones. One look at them and he knew they'd come to the same conclusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but was efficiently cut off.

"We don't have hard evidence yet. Inoccent until proven guilty." Rachel said curtly, her face blank. A smile spread across her face, seemingly genuine, but Charlie knew better.

"Well, I'm off to bed. But tomorrow, you and I- we gonna get our investigating _on_!" she said, pecking her brother before jumping off onto her own bed, ending the conversation.

Charlie sighed. If what they both thought turned out to be true- if Dad really did do it- he couldn't even say it, but if he did what they figured he did, for once, Charlie wasn't sure how it would sit with his sister.

…

…

"Bye, sweethearts." Mia said, leaning down to kiss her daughter and biological son on the cheeks.

"See ya later, mum." Rachel murmured, eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Your father will be home with Charlie in about two hours. Don't burn the house down!" Mia called as she left the room.

The front door slammed shut as Rachel leapt off her seat, almost spilling her Coke in the process. With extreme flourish, she switched of the TV with a wave of her remote.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Micah yelped.

"I have something more fun in mind, Mike"

"_No_! I wanna watch Doctor Who! Gimme it back, Rache, gimme it _back_!" the boy yelled, reaching for the remote.

"Oi, listen to me, kid." Rachel said, mock warningly "don't you want to go on an adventure?" this piqued the boy's interest.

"Where're we going?"

"Well, we're going to mummy's room-"

"GIMME THE REMOTE BACK!"

"-for a scavenger hunt."

"RACHEL I- scavenger hunt?"

"Scavenger hunt." Rachel concluded with a nod of her head. She held out her hand, which Micah reached out for.

"It's a rerun episode anyway," she said, nodding to the TV, "Race you to the bedroom." She called out, grabbing her brother's hand.

"Run!" he yelled, laughing at his own joke as he dragged a chuckling Rachel along.

…

Rachel sat on the edge of her mother's bed. Nothing out of the ordinary so far, so maybe her suspicions were false. Yes, they were probably false. There was no way Dad would-

She swallowed the lump growing at the back of her throat. _Come on_, she thought_ this isn't the time to be a baby_.

Taking a deep breath she stood back up and carried on searching the room for _any_ evidence at all.

"Look at mummy's big earring, Rachel!" Micah yelled. Rachel smiled, looking at the dresser. Her mother had a massive assortment of many kinds of jewellery. She remembered sneaking in when she was younger to try them on and pretend to be a movie star or supermodel.

"Aren't they Micah?" she murmured, mostly to herself.

"But this one's _big_." He said "See? It's the size of my hand!" he cried, running around to shove the trinket in his sister's face.

Rachel took the earring from Micah and glanced at it, her eyes immediately widening. It was a chandelier earring- large and very, very loud. And gold. By the looks of it, expensive. Her mother had never worn this. Emptiness crawled through Rachel's stomach; the air was so hot suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

She knew who wore this.

What was Enola's earring doing in her parent's bedroom?

Rachel propelled herself off the bed as if it morphed into a hot poker. Micah squealed in surprise, alerting Rachel of his presence. A well-rehearsed grin plastered itself on her face.

"Great job Micah! You've found the hidden treasure!" she yelled, sweeping him up and spinning him around. Micah giggled.

"I knew it was a good idea to look under the bed!" he cried out.

"Yes, you clever, clever boy! And do you know what clever boys get?"

"ICE-CREAM!" the boy yelled, pumping a fist.

"As long as you don't tell mummy and daddy about any of this." She leaned forward and whispered, "It's our little secret"

Micah giggled as he rode piggyback down to the kitchen with Rachel, whose smile never faltered despite the ever-growing hole gaping at her insides.

…

…

Molly walked into the morgue, a stack of paperwork under her arm. She was tired. Another autopsy over, but it was classified as homicide and now the paperwork was through the roof. Scotland Yard would be over soon, and Molly could only hope and pray that _he_ didn't follow.

She was sitting at her desk, halfway through with her work, when the call from the intercom arrived, alerting her. Molly groaned, rubbing her face, before straightening her jacket.

John strolled in a few minutes later, a cautious smile on his face.

"Mornin' Molls."

"John," Molly greeted smiling, hugging the man. She pulled away; he brought a hand to scratch the back of his head.

"Look Molly, he's here and all that. I just wanted to say, whatever reason you had to break up with him, I'm pretty sure was completely understandable and I would agree with you and all that. But if you could just, I dunno, talk to him about it Molly?" he said, unsuredly. Molly took a deep breath.

"It's just that, I've never seen him so…off." John continued.

"John, I-" the double doors swung open and the pair jumped in surprise and guilt as Sherlock casually sauntered in.

Molly squeaked.

A blush rose up her neck and settled on her cheeks. She bowed her head and faced away from the detective. This was highly impossible. And completely unfair.

She looked up and caught John looking worriedly between her and Sherlock, the dashing man himself was staring intently at Molly, an unknown emotion filling his eyes. The trio stood like that for a few seconds before the doors opened for a third time.

"Morning Molly!" Lestrade called as he walked in with a slightly disheveled Anderson and a too-haughty Donovan.

"Did you fall into a mud puddle?" Molly couldn't help but ask, taking in her fellow pathologist state. Everyone else sniggered.

"Mind your own business would you, Molly?" Sally snapped, a blush rising to her cheeks. Molly's eyebrows rose, understanding the implications.

"Just asking- hope the two of you had fun," she muttered, "Anyway," she said louder, "victim Diana Jameson, died from a gunshot wound to the head-"

Molly continued with her explanations, stealing glances at Sherlock, who was doing the same with her. Even as he made his deductions, they went throught the same routine:

Molly stares. Molly looks down.

Sherlock stares. Molly stares. Both look down.

Sherlock stares. Yells at Donovan or Anderson as Molly looks down. Sherlock looks down. Molly stares.

Both stare. Keep gaze. Molly looks away.

"You know, if you two weren't ogling each other all day, we'd be listening to _less_ of Sherlock?" Anderson stated suddenly, smirking at the couple. Molly instantly fumed.

"Is that right, Anderson?" Molly snapped, before even Sherlock could get a word in. Everyone looked at her in surprise.

"If you don't like it, remember that this is _my_ morgue. If you have a problem, the door's around the corner. I'm certain even you, who decided she died by asphyxiation- very smart of you by the way- can certainly find it. They're made of glass, so don't walk into them, if you can manage it."

The morgue was silent, save for Anderson's spluttering.

"I-I…B-Bu- I didn't have any-it was a split decision-wha-are you questioning my logic?"

"Very good Anderson, you have finally lowered yourself to a spluttering mess." Sherlock stated.

"Bu-Bu-"

"Oh _shut up_, Anderson. Your voice makes toddlers within a two mile radius cry."

That shut him up.

After a less eventful ten minutes, the Yard team trooped out. Sherlock moved around silently to his workplace and began setting up his station. He was here to stay.

"I, uh, I'm about to head out to meet Mary, yeah? See you in a bit. Sherlock- one hour"

"See you at eight-"

"I said _one_."

"No one listens to you. Including yourself." John muttered to himself as he hugged Molly.

"See you," he said, giving her a pointed look.

Molly turned around, facing the mop of curls. She had half a mind to stomp around like a child, but collected herself before she brought her foot up.

"Why?"

"Huh?" she said dumbly.

"Why did you do it? You are obviously still infatuated with me." Sherlock said, looking up at her casually.

This was going to be a long three hours.

_Why don't you_ ever _listen to yourself, John?_

…

…

"Ah, Enola, sweetheart, you're home." Aliana greeted as her daughter stepped into the room.

"Afternoon, Mummy. Hullo Mycroft." Enola beamed, leaning over to peck her mother and brother on the cheek. She settled on the sofa next to Mycroft.

A maid rushed into the room, tray in hand.

"Your tea, ma'am, sir." She bowed, handing a cup to Mycroft and his mum. Enola watched, declining when she was offered a cuppa as well.

"What brings you home, My?"

"Nothing really. Just thought I'd visit Mummy."

"Bored of starting wars?"

"Sarcasm never looked good on you sister dear."

"Enough bickering you two. You should know that I have spoken to Marion Hooper."

Mycroft choked and spluttered. A very rare sight.

"As in the grandmother of Rachel and Charlie Hoo-"

"Yes, Mycroft, yes."

"I was under the impression she wasn't very friendly with our family."

"She isn't. Doesn't mean she can't be friendly with me."

Enola watched in silence. Where was this going, exactly?

"Where're you going with this?" Mycroft asked.

"She has requested we have dinner. Both families. A get-to-know-each-other thing. Since we are connected in more ways than one." She said.

"Sherlock's relationship is no more, Mummy."

"Yes, but I know the girl. She was the one who gave him a home after his fall, am I right?" Mycroft chuckled.

"Yes, she was." Aliana smiled.

"Exactly."

Molly was his go to when he faked his death? _Molly_? Seriously? This woman was butting in _everywhere_! He could have stayed with Enola, for crying out loud, but no- he picked Molly and dropped off the face of the Earth.

Molly Hooper was literally taking everything away from her. Her own kids loved the mousy woman more; her love only listened to her (and was her _brother_); and on top of that, Sherlock- the one person to always stay by her side, no matter what- was in love with her.

She could do something about the latter bit, she realised. Just a bit of persuading and sad talk here and there. Enola smiled.

"I have to head on home. See you tomorrow Mummy!" Aliana pecked her mother and hugged Mycroft before leaving.

…

…

"For the last time Sherlock, I don't want to tell you."

"Why not? Why can't you say anything?" Sherlock thundered.

This was going on for just over an hour and a half- Sherlock pestering; Molly resisting. It was a game of who gave in first. Who could wait it out the longest?

It hard started off awkward and fairly lighthearted, but evolved to more persistent as Sherlock decided to follow Molly around the morgue. Soon it evolved to the current stage: very, very angry.

"Listen properly, Sherlock." Molly snapped "I said I don't _want_ to not _can't_."

"I deserve to know."  
"Yes, you do- but it isn't specified _when_ I get to tell you."

"Molly."

"Sherlock, leave me-"

"Tell me-"

"-ALONE!"  
"-NOW!"

The couple glared at each other. Molly faintly acknowledged the sharp edge of the table pressing against her back. Sherlock was bent over her, his stray curl brushing her forhead.

She could feel his breath against her lips.

When did they get so close again?

Her glare dipped down to his parted, panting lips- all perfect and bow shaped. Her gaze flitted up to his eyes, matching his glare with her own.

Her hands braced herself behind her as his edged out towards her.

His eyes were darkeneing, the pretty irises swallowed by his ballooning pupils. She felt his hand on her wrist. Her eyes shot down at the contact, her guard falling.

Molly was, to say the least, startled when a finger crooked her chin to face him and his lips crashed onto hers.

She stood there, shocked, as Sherlock moved over her, enveloping her body with his. Regaining her senses, Molly, weaved her hands up as he pulled away, and forced his head back down over hers,

Their tongues danced and fought. It was a kiss of dominance, a contest fuelled by passion. Soon, lack of oxygen beat them both and they pulled away panting. Sherlock stepped back to give Molly space as she traced the marks he made on her lips with her fingers.

"Sherlock! John said you'd be here."

Sherlock stepped aside, eyes never leaving Molly. The pathologist on the other hand tensed considerably.

"Enola. How nice." She said as warmly as she could.

"Hey there. Just here to take Sherlock home, is all."

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked, annoyed.

"Night off with his girlfriend." Enola said "Give him a break. He called me to get you home."

Sherlock nodded. Molly shifted under Enola's scrutiny.

"I-I'll be- I need to file some paperwork." Molly stammered as she grabbed a random file and fled the morgue.

…

"What were you doing with her?" Enola asked. Was he really snogging her? He was meant to be a genius for goodness sakes.

"You aren't blind Enola." He said coolly.

"No need to get sarcastic with me. I'm just looking out for you. Fooling around with her isn't going to do you any good."

"You aren't the boss of me, Enola. I am an adult, therefore I have no need to be coached."

Enola sighed. She hated lying to her brother- but this was for his own good.

"Sherlock, Molly and I talked a while back. About you. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I care about you. I don't want you to be more hurt."

"What did she say." Sherlock said, eyes narrowing.

"She wasn't that attracted to you. She never really liked you. It's just this mechanism in us girls- we want what we can't have. Told me you weren't boyfriend material anyway and that she didn't want you two to hold each other back."  
Sherlock's eyes narrowed further.

"She was happy when we were together."

"She didn't know how to break it to you. It's acting, Sher. Believe me."

"She isn't a good actress."

Enol sighed. Time to bring out the big guns.

"Who would you rather believe: the ex or the sister?"

The doors opened and Molly reentered. Enola smirked as Sherlock tensed up. He got up roughly and grabbed his Belstaff.

"We're leaving Enola." He said brushing past Molly.

"Goodnight Dr. Hooper." He said curtly before exiting.

Enola couldn't resist the urge to wink at Molly.

"Remember, I won't tell if you don't." she whispered before leaving, her heels clacking.

…

…

"Molly it's one in the bloody morning."

"Sorry Mary, just had to ask- did Enola speak to John today?" Molly heard rustling at the end of the line.

"Yeah," Mary answered perking up "was about to tell you later today, but-"

"What did she say?"

"Offered to give John the 'night off' with me so that she could have quality time with her brother."

"…"

"Molly, love, you there?"

"Yeah, yeah. Funny she came into the morgue and said John asked."

"You don't think-"

"She's up to something Mary-"

"Oh you _just_ realised." Mary groaned into the phone. There was more rustling and a male voice asking 'who are you talking to'.

"Tell John I said hi- I'll tell you the rest in the morning. Night, Mary." Molly said before hanging up.

What the _hell_ was going on?

**Yay! So my ****final's are over and I am therefore a free girl. Free as the wind- well, in this case the wind has a mother. Anyway, thank you SO much to the SO MANY PEOPLE who reviewed, favourited and followed me! I know- no shout-outs, I promise next time there will be. I'm going to start replying using P.M so that it doesn't clog up the start of each update, so to the guest reviewers, there will be shout outs at the BOTTOM of the update from now on.**

**Thank you so much to Yay, who has actually reviewed most of the chapters in what seemed to be in one go! Your critisism was really much appreciated- I really am blind, aren't I?**

**Again thank you so much, dear readers, and 'TIL NEXT TIME!**

**-Ash :)**


	22. Invitations and confrontations

Silence filled the previously lively atmosphere of the room. Three children on the carpet looked up at the three adults: one in an armchair, two on the sofa; the latters of which sat in silence, mouths agape.

Rachel and Charlie looked at each other with the slightest sense of dread as Micah found his sister's hair as a chew-toy more interesting that the awkward silence.

"_What_?" Matthew spluttered as his thoughts gathered. His mother shifted in annoyance in the armchair, tutting softly.

"Listen properly, Matthew. What is it about 'we are having dinner with the mother of your two older children' do you now understand?" Rachel sniggered as the tips of her father's ears reddened, only to be elbowed by her brother.

"Ow!" she yelled, clutching her side. It was her turn to redden when all eyes turned on her.

"Sorry," she apologised "Micah get off me!" she said, untangling her hair. Molly cleared her throat next to her brother.

"I-We just thought that you wouldn't want to be speaking to the Holmes family, is all."  
"Well, I took it upon myself. That woman are the children's mother and therefore has held on to the tiniest thread that ties her to this family- and I'd like to get to know my family. No matter how repulsive. Besides, the mother seems…well educated."

Molly grinned "You mean, you like her mum." Marion scoffed.

"I never even implied it."

"Your tone did. It's okay to admit it mum."

"Well, she was very interesting when I met her." Molly chuckled.

"I know, mum." Molly looked to her brother- he wore a very disturbed expression. A car honked outside.

"That'd be my ride. It's next week- I believe you know the place? We'll meet you there."

"Of course mum." Molly said, sighing as she got up. She saw her mother out the door and waved as the car pulled away.

"Kids, could you leave Aunt Molly and I alone for a mo?" Matt asked as his sister entered the room. She swore Rachel and Charlie stole a glance before nodding and leaving the room with Micah. What were they up to?

She ruffled the kids' hair as they left the room before entering herself.

"So.." she started, taking a seat next to Matt.

"This is just uncanny."

"Yep." Molly agreed, popping the 'p'.

"God, seriously? Dinner with _them_? And _now_ of all times!" he groaned, putting his head in his hands. Molly moved over and rubbed his back with the palm of her hand.

"You're telling me." she muttered, chuckling sarcastically.

"Oh right, I forgot about your problems- sorry 'bout that."

"'S alright." Molly hummed.

"Well, at least _you _called it quits on that one. I don't think I can even look at her! Especially with Mia there. Oh god- Mia has to come, doesn't she? How am I supposed to tell her?"

"Really depends what you're telling her."

Matthew flinched away and whipped his head up to look at her, eyes blazing.

"This is not the time, Molls." Anger welled up in Molly.

"Maybe it is, Matt,"

"No it isn't. I don't want to talk about this."

"Matt, you have to tell her. You slept with Enola. Slept with her. Sex. You can't keep secrets like this from your _wife_!"

"I told you- I will tell her myself. In my own _time!_" he yelled, standing up.

He glared down at his sister. What was her problem? Why did she keep putting her nose in problems she had nothing to do with? It made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Molly stood up, seething- the anger building at the back of her eyes, making them sting painfully.

"It's just going to be worse, the longer you keep this in. And each day you keep it in, it just raises the chance of her finding out through someone else."

"Molly, I swear, if you breathe a word of this-" Molly let out a shuddering breath. Did he really thinks that low of her?

"Are you so blind, Matt, that I would do something like this to you? Ever? I'm your bloody _sister_ for goodness sake! I'm on your _side_."

"If you were, you wouldn't be making things worse."

"Trust me, Matthew, it would be a hell load more if it weren't for me." Molly bit her lip a little too late, realising she said too much.

"_You_? Pray tell, what did you do to make this _all_ better? Huh, Molly?"

Molly shut her eyes.

"Your secret wouldn't be one if I hadn't bro-"Molly cut of, shutting her eyes. Should she really tell her brother? Molly wouldn't be able to bare to see or know that she made this all the more worse when this knowledge reached her brother.

"What Molly- everyone would know if you didn't?" he asked, gesturing for her to continue.

"-if I hadn't kept it to myself." She finished. The weight on her heart pushed down harder, forcing itself against her stomach. Molly's insides squirmed, nauseating her. She just lied to her brother.

"I figured that out myself."

"Just _tell_ her, Matt-"

"For the _last time_- NO." he yelled, glaring down at her sister's small frame. The stabbing anger intensified behind her eyes, and the stinging brought on tears.

Wordlessly, the pathologist ducked around her brother and grabbed her satchel, leaving the house, for once slamming the front door as hard as she could. For the first time in the long time, she didn't care about the consequences of that action- she deserved at least that luxury.

…

…

Matthew stood staring at the space where her sister just was. He succeeded in chasing away the one person who stayed by his side through all his ordeals.

He groaned, slouching onto a chair. Why did he let this happen? How could he have? He loved his wife- more than anyone could've imagined, so how could he do something so disgusting?

He swore, cursing himself, and Enola. He'd been so drunk that night- all the memories weren't very much in place, but he was certain that Enola wasn't as intoxicated as he was.

Why did he do it? _Why_? He pulled at his hair, before letting his fingers slide down his cheeks. He ripped them away, rubbing his finger tips to confirm the moisture on the pads.

Upon realising it, the tears began streaming down his face in a steady stream. A sob broke through his lips and Matthew had to shove his fist against his mouth to stifle himself. The cursing began again against hiccups and hyperventilating.

Droplets dripped of his nose and chin, staining his shirt and hands- not that he cared. It seemed some of the weight in his gut and chest was lifted of, and the thought sent a fresh wave of guilt destroying any form of lightness he was feeling.

He looked around the room- one of many in the house he lived in with his wife since they were married. His _wife_- how could he do this to Mia?

The tears were steadily slowing; Matthew wiped the back of a fist over his cheeks, drying them the best he could.

"Dad? Was there a slam? Is everything okay?" Matthew faced away from his daughter as she entered the room.

"No, yes. Of course- everything's grand. Sweetie, could you just leave me for awhile? I'm just gonna take a little kip."

"'Course dad." She said, before shutting the door behind her.

By cheating on his wife, he tore his whole family apart. How were his children going to cope with this? He forgot about how this would affect them; they were just children,

Matthew messed everything up, and it was time he came to terms with his actions.

He also needed to give in and accept his punishment.

…

…

Rachel walked away from the living room, stopping at the staircase where her brothers sat.

"There all done." She said, flapping her arms for effect. She felt tired. Her fears were confirmed. She looked down at Micah who was begginign to doze off.

"Hey, he's about to fall asleep." She pointed out.

Charlie lifted Micah in his arms and followed his sister silently up the stairs to Micah's room.

They set him down in his racecar bed, watching him tumble around on the mattress to find that one spot. He finally stopped moving, finding having his legged bent behind his back and his torso twisted with his face flopped onto the pillow as comfortable as can be.

Charlie chuckled, turning to his sister. He immediately stopped, moving to her to envelope her into a hug.

"Hey, c'mere." He muttered, kissing her head. He held her back to his chest.

"What's your problem? Get off, you oaf." Rachel protested, squirming around to get free.

"You're crying." He stated, whispering into her ear. Her eyes widened in surprise; her hand flew to her face. Her fingertips came away glistening and moist.

"Looks like I am." She said in monotone

"It's okay to cry you know. It's just me."

"I-I know." She answered, holiding in a sob. It welled painfully in her throat and she coughed uncomfortably.

"Shhhh, it's just me. It's alright, let it out." Charlie muttered. Rachel spun around in his arms and buried herself in his chest.

His t-shirt soaked through with tears; Charlie realised her hair was dampening with his own. They held each other for an eternity, finding comfort in each other when theu knew there truly wasn't anyone else.

…

…

"Hey. Everything alright?" Enola asked, turning around for the thirs time to see that her children were walking a mile behind her.

"Of course." Charlie said, pulling his sister to catch up.

"Actually no, it isn't. I have a test coming up." Rachel lied through her teeth. It was a horrible lie, seeing that it was almost the end of the school year. Enola raised her eyebrows.

"Uh huh," she shaid "do you want help with it?"

"I may need that, now that you think of it. Could you drop us at Aunt Molly's after? Dad won't mind." Rachel said, watching Enola closely.

Enola frowned and sneered before expertly covering it up with a grin.

"Of course." She trilled before walking on.

Rachel looked at her brother.

"She hates Aunt Molly." Charlie nodded.  
"I second that."

…

…

Molly stole another glance at Sherlock. She wasn't him, but anyone could see that the detective was blatantly ignoring her. John caught her look, smiling sympathetically. Even he had no clue why Sherlock was suddenly so hostile.

_That kiss was a mistake_, Molly figured. It seemed everyone was against her. Matt was beyond pissed of, Enola was being a hateful bitch, Sherlock was having mood swings, John would always stand by Sherlock….the list was just never-ending. And then there was that _stupid_ dinner thing. She'd never been more angry at her mother.

Sherlock had to know about it- but if it did, he never let on. Molly spoke to her mother- a plus one was allowed: Mary was coming. It was a small constellation.

Said pediatrician strolled into the morgue then, her aura instantly lightening the mood. John and Molly sighed in relief simultaneously.

"Yeah, I _know_. It's amazing to have the entire weekend of for once." Mary said into her phone. She laughed at a comment on the other end. Molly shook her head and looked back down at her work.

"_No way_." Molly looked back up. Her friend was gesturing wildly to her whilst jumping up and down in glee. The voice in the other end was amplified; it sounded vaguely familiar. Sherlock and John were watching her antiques as well.

"Wait, wait, hold on- no she is free, but you know her- _wait_, will you? Honestly, she's right here- I'm asking her now." Mary took the phone from her ear and placed her hand over the receiver end.

"So Sara's on the phone." Molly grinned- Sara was an old friend.

"Yeah so? What did you want to ask?" Mary groaned.

"Boring ol' Molly- cutting to the chase. You were supposed to wait for the build up."

"Mary, rambling."

"Yeah, okay. Well Sara's proposed a girls' night out with the rest of the group."

"Okay sure." Molly answered, looking back down at her work.

"At Vogue." Molly pen bounced of her paperwork and clattered onto the floor.

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_. Not the club."

Both women didn't notice the eyebrows raising to the men's forheads.

"_Yes_. She knows a guy, who knows a guy who has a wife who has a cousin who works at the club, and she has this big affair with the boss or whatever- the point is, free passes for all of us."

Molly grabbed the phone from Mary's hand, ignoring her yell of protest.

"Hey Sara, it's Molls- yeah, I heard- are _you kdding?_- 'course, we'll both be there- yes, both- this Saturday?- yeah, see you- yeah my apartment- great- see you, love." Molly hung up, handing the phone back to Mary.

"Vogue." Mary said.

"Vogue."

Both women squealed, hugging each other; they hopped around in circles and until dizziness succumbed both of them. Mary finally noticed the other precenses in the room.

"John!" she squealed throwing herself into John's arms. "Sherlock" she greeted, receiving a nod in return.

Heat rose to Molly's cheeks upon remembering Sherlock and John's being there.

"So Vogue?" John inquired.

"Only the biggest club in London!" Mary answered, squealing again. Molly chuckled at John's very disturbed look.

"Don't worry, John- it's a girls night. No men. At all." Molly confirmed. John's face relaxed considerably.

"Aww, you jealous love? Wouldn't have it any other way." Mary said, pecking John's lips. Molly sighed- oh how she wanted that- stealing another glance at Sherlock. The man was looking at her, but his gaze was cold. Molly looked away first.

He really seemed to hate her.

…

…

**Hey guys, this is ash's editor here. Her internet is down so I'm uploading all her chapters for her and the next few uploads should be quite fast. She says thanks to all her readers and also sorry for the long wait, thanks for being really patient. Anyway, the next chapter should be up maybe tomorrow so be sure to review it. **

**-the editor**


	23. Realisations

Mary dragged herself into the morgue, one hand gripping her head, the other miraculously balancing two Styrofoam cups of coffee. Squinting, Molly looked up from her computer, grinning in mad relief.

"Oh, yes. A miracle sent from heaven above." Molly sighed, pushing herself of the stool. It was a bad idea- her already throbbing head suddenly weighed the size of a planet; she groaned, clutching her head.

"Remind me to never, ever go to a club- scrap that, to a place that serves alcohol, on a Sunday night. I don't care if the Queen will be there."

"Huuuhhhhhhgh." Mary replied, sluggishly handing over one of the cups. Molly hastily took a drink, uncaring as the scalding liquid burned her throat. Her mind was suddenly a lot clearer.

"Ughhhhhh." Mary groaned, slumping onto a stool. While Molly's hangover migraines were painful, Mary's eliminated all intelectual capabilities. It was a wonder she didn't accidently inject a child in the wrong place today.

Mary slumped forwards, her head landing with a thud onto a table. She stayed unmoving. Despite the searing pain behind her eyes, Molly looked back at her glaringly bright computer screen. She swore it was alive and was purposely making itself brighter, just to chastise her.

Not that she cared. If anything, that weekend out with her girlfriends was exactly what she needed at this point of time. It was one night: no men, no drama, no responsibilities. No Enola. No Matt.

No Sherlock.

The guilt ate her alive at the start, when she first sat with her friends and giggled at other men and-slash-or their own stories. How could she be here when so much needed fixing? Her family needed her. When the handsome man at the bar winked at her and asked her to dance- she gladly accepted. But how could she? She was meant to be in love with Sherlock.

Lines were drawn after the first dance- after all; it _was _a_ girl's_ night out.

Molly looked back up at her friend, who was snoring lightly. She rubbed her palm over her face, feeling her massive eye bags from the lack of sleep; thank god there were no murders or experiments that needed to be checked upon that day.

….

….

"I'll be back in a few hours or so, yeah?"

Sherlock exhaled in annoyance.

"Yes, yes Enola. Now goodbye." He said briskly, moving to shut the door in his sister's face.

"Wait, wait," she stalled, placing her hands on the other side of the door. Sherlock contained his groan. "See you in a bit, kids!" Enola called out to the two teenagers on the carpet.

She received no reply. Sherlock normally would have tolerated what would have been a rant from his sister, but there really were more pressing issues to get to.

"Goodbye Enola." He said, all but slamming the door in her face.

The detective turned around, only to have his self-satisfied smirk wiped of his face.  
"That was rude, Sherlock."

"I don't care, John."

"She's your _sister_."

"And you wear jumpers that make you look like one of my Homeless Network. Pray tell, why are we stating the obvious."

The blonde man huffed.

"Honestly, it's like everyday is your time of the month nowadays."

"John, only _females_ have _menstrual_ cycles. I am, quite obviously a male-"

"Sherlock, did I say _anything_ about '_menstrual cycles_'?" Sherlock glared at John before turning away. He could imagine the look of shock on Johns face: eyebrows hidden in his hairline, jaw hanging to his chest- Sherlock chuckled at the image; but he had more pressing matters to attend.

He walked over to the Rachel and Charlie, both of whom hadn't budged from their position on the carpet, and sat in front of them.

The girl was seemingly unaware of his presence but constant glances at Sherlock gave her away. On the other hand, the boy was oblivious. Both were on smartphones: the girl chatting animatedly (with wild hand gestures- a waste of energy, seeing- no pun intended- that the recipient couldn't see what them); the boy hunched over the screen, thumbs whacking the touch-screen keyboard with quick precision.

He cleared his throat- loudly, earning a glare from his niece. His nephew barely shifted position.

The detective huffed in annoyance. He wasn't used to being ignored- was this what it felt like? How…irritating. Especially when he wanted answers from said ignorers.

Again, he cleared his throat, earning another death glare and this time, Charlie looked up with a confused glance before turning back to the screen.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose whilst scrunching his eyebrows before clearing his throat in the largest way possible.

…

Charlie focused on his screen, typing away at his keyboard. He was aware of Sherlock, obviously wanting to talk, but he just needed to send this one….. last …text…-

A loud animalistic _grunt_ (Charlie didn't know how else to describe it) sounded. He didn't really know how to compare it, but it was enough to make him (metaphorically) jump out of his skin.

He dropped his phone, barely registering his sister saying goodbye to her friend in annoyance, blinking away the colored dots in his vision. No more using full brightness on his phone.

…

Rachel glared at Sherlock- annoyed to have been interrupted. It was funny, however, watching her brother blinking around trying to gain his bearings like a confused bear.

She glanced back at Sherlock, stifling a giggle.

"Yes, Sherlock?" she asked.

….

"What did you mean, my sister has something to do with your aunt…" Sherlock trailed off, swallowing. He gritted his teeth in half annoyance and amusement as he took in his niece's amused smirk.

This girl was more like him than he thought. He had yet to decide if this was good or bad.

"My Aunt Molly doing what?" Rachel asked sweetly. It was Sherlock turn to glare, serving only to widen Rachel's smirk. Her gaze shifted to her brother.

"Alright, alright," She said to Charlie before turning to Sherlock "I meant, that your sister, Enola, has something to do with the fact that Aunt Molly dumped you."

"Rachel." Charlie said in a warning tone. He must have thought Sherlock would be affected by that remark. He chuckled to himself- as if.

"Sorry there, Uncle. Didn't mean for it to come out so harsh."

Sherlock gave her a pointed look, one Rachel mirrored exactly.

"We didn't miss the flinch. Sorry to point that out as well" Charlie muttered. Sherlock's nostrils flared.

"Can we get back to the point?"

"Well, I did answer your question so technic-"

"Fine new question: how is my sister involved?"

This girl was a Holmes in character through and through. It must be infinitely difficult for the _normal_ people to beat her in an argument.

"I really don't think you want to know, Sherlock." the detective noted the serious note her voice suddenly held. He perked up.

"I think that is for me to decide. Now tell me." He didn't miss the careful glance she passed over to her older brother; he nodded and shrugged.

"We think," the boy said, "that Enola has something over Aunt Molly's head that forced her to…you know."

Sherlock placed his elbows on his crossed knees and steepled his fingers under his chin.

"And what does she have to hold against Molly?"

"We haven't figured that part out yet."

Sherlock's eyebrows perked as he glanced at Rachel. Her face was oddly void of emotion. Her jaw, once clenched, loosened suddenly. Hidden well in her lap, her fingers were wrung tightly.

She lied.

"Good try." Sherlock answered "Now what does she have?"

"We may not be correct." Rachel retorted.

"I'd still like to hear it."

"Well I don't want to say, and you can't make me. I'm not comfortable." She rebutted. Sherlock knew a lost cause when he saw it.

"What about you?" Charlie raised his eyebrows, hands up in surrender.

"Not my secret to tell, really."

"Then _whose _is it?" Sherlock asked, his voice raising.

"Enola's."

Sherlock groaned in frustration.

"Look can we please not talk about this anymore. _Please_?"

Normally, Sherlock would press and press until he was satisfied with an answer, but something about his niece's tone and expression forced him to waver. He didn't understand, at all, why he was doing this, but he decided to let the matter drop. For now.

"Very well, but we still aren't finished here. Now do you want to test your deduction skills or am I to leave you to your phones."

"Deduction." Came the joint response.

Sherlock watched his niece and nephew, later on, when he pretended to be deep in thought on the couch.

They seemed very close, almost like him and Enola as children, but in a much different manner.

Rachel was obviously the louder one of the pair, very teasing- especially with her brother. She was much plainer than a Holmes was, all dark: brunette hair and eyes with tanned skin, but just as proud, witty and outspoken.

Charlie kept more to himself, much like- much like his Aunt. Sherlock clenched his jaw (Molly was still a sore topic).

As Sherlock observed their interactions, he became aware that he was familiar with them. He'd done this, the teasing, everything. It was how he was with Molly.

He shut his eyes as his thought flooded with Molly. Sherlock sincerely thought that things, their relationship, was headed in the right direction: she was infatuated with him, and he was- well, he was getting to that point as well; wasn't that all that was required?

The detective never had enough clues: what made her suddenly decide enough was enough? It couldn't be a sudden drop in her infatuation. At first he thought that he was disappointing, but then she'd had to have been an amazing actress to pull that off.

No, she had a reason. And somehow, he trusted the teens in front of him that his sister had something to do with that reason.

He'd grown up with Enola, played with her, had her by his side against Mycroft- he knew she was capable of something like this, she'd done it before. But would she do this to her own family? Sherlock knew that his sister loved him dearly, of course she did, so she probably did it for his sake. Surely he had shown he could take care of himself though.

_I'm not thinking straight_, he realised, and he knew why. Molly had somehow seeded herself into every door of his mind, and like a virus, she simply refused to be removed.

He missed her, so much. But he remembered what Enola said- that he was just something that she wanted but couldn't have. He'd so firmly believed her- why? Of course Molly wasn't that type of person. She was sweet, mousy Molly. Molly, whom he'd hurt on so many occasions, yet was there for him when he needed her most.

Sherlock knew that she still loved him, and that whatever his sister had over the pathologist's- _his _pathologist's- head was something very close to home for Molly.

This thought incensed the brooding man. How dare anyone hurt Molly like that? What could Molly ever have done to make Enola do something like this?

The doorbell rang; Sherlock brought himself out of his thoughts as John opened the door and greeted Enola. He swung his legs over the sofa and sat up. Rachel and Charlie scrambled up at shoved each other to the door, laughing.

Sherlock followed suit, dusting himself off as he walked over to stand next to John.

"Did you have fun?" Enola asked, grinning.

"Yep." Rachel answered; Charlie merely nodded and grinned.

"Great- oh Sherlock, Mummy wants to talk to you, so-"

"Yes, yes." Sherlock answered curtly, waving his sister away. Her presence annoyed him- especially with what he'd learned. Enola's smile waned- she'd taken notice of his hostility, Sherlock noted.

"Well c'mon then- I've got to get you lot home." Enola said to the two teenagers.

"See you Sherlock, John." Charlie said, nodding to the two men. John smiled.

"See you Charlie." He smiled; Charlie waved before leaving the room to follow Enola.

Sherlock grunted in surprise when he felt a weight engulfing his middle. He looked down and saw his niece wrapped around his abdomen. Looking around wildly, he caught John stifling a smile, and threw him a glare.

The girl pulled away, smile playing on her lips.

"See ya, Uncle Sherly." She said before bounding out the room. Sherlock stood there. In the few seconds the girl looked at him he realised (a tad bit late, might he add) why he so readily gave in to her earlier.

She looked too much like Molly.

Something tugged in his chest, forcing a wave of nausea through his body; he'd only recently been feeling this very uncomfortable sensation, and the reason was Molly.

"Molly." he said, unable to stop the word from leaving his mouth. John, who was giggling quietly, stopped and stared at Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you alright?" he asked, concern dripping in his words.

"Molly," he said again, voice suddenly hoarse "the nausea the-the pain, _here_." He said, pointing to his chest "It's because I have these _feelings _for her, but why does it hurt?"

Sherlock looked to John, who stared back at him in shock. The doctor straightened up after a few moments and guided Sherlock to his armchair. The detective plopped onto the cushions in a boneless heap, nothing like his usual feline grace.

"Well," John began "You obviously miss her." Sherlock rolled his eyes, snorting.

"Obviously. I want to know _why_." Honestly people were so _slow._ John huffed- he was annoyed at Sherlock, the detective noticed.

"You miss her, because no matter what you say, or how much in denial you are-"

"-I have feelings for the woman." Sherlock finished, sighing as he maneuvered his body into a more comfortable position.

He lay back on the armchair, head facing away from John, legs hanging over the opposite arm, dangling dangerously close to the fireplace. Sherlock hummed and steepled his fingers under his chin.

"Oh, so you admit it then." Sherlock strained his neck to give his blogger a glare.

"Okay, okay," the blonde said raising his hands "you want to know why you like her that much then."

"Finally, the man has caught up."

"Shut up Sherlock. There are many reasons really: her personality, she is quite attractive-"

"Yes I know, but there is something more than that."

"What do you mean Sherlock? You need to compare this with something."

"Fine," Sherlock snapped "the first time we fought, when she slapped me all that time ago, I realised my mistake. But I also felt something familiar to what I feel now; I've identified that as guilt. Everytime I did something wrong after that, to offend her or hurt her, that feeling came back, each time more intense the last. Also, I seemed to go through brief panic modes when I thought that something I did wasn't up to her par. I feel that now, but a hundred times worse- what did I do that made her give up on me?"

"Okay, we-"

"I'm not done." Sherlock snapped again, cutting off a surprised John "But when I think of her, I become _happy_ for some reason. Despite the fact that she cut off all ties with me, I still want to make her happy as well. I _want her_ to be happy. I want her to be happy with _me_."

Sherlock sat up rigidly upon hearing John barely containing his laughter. The blonde snorted in an attempt to hold back his laughter.

Sherlock tensed, his mouth set in a thin line. He stood up and made way to his room.

"You find this _funny_? Of course you do, I knew I never should have-"

"Wait, wait, Sherlock, come on, I'm sorry." John said. Sherlock turned around, only to have his blogger convulse into another fit of laughter.

"This is a waste of my time." The detective muttered, moving to his room.

"Sherlock, sorry, wait- seriously, c'mon we'll talk about this. Properly."

Sherlock sighed heavily, turning around to face John. The veteran had sobered and was genuine about his invitation. This never happened (ever) to Sherlock, but suddenly all confidence drained from his body. He took shy steps to his armchair and sat carefully.

"Sorry Sherlock, I just never thought that you could-"

"Have romantic feelings for anyone?"

"No, yes, well not after I saw you with Molly. I just never realised how- how _serious_ you are about this."

"I don't understand why I feel like this."

"So you're asking me." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course. You are very experienced in this field and there isn't anyone else to convey the problem at hand too."

"I'm not _that_ experienced."

"Are you really denying me?" John sent a half-hearted withered look to Sherlock, who smirked in return.

"Anyway, I don't think you'll like the answer I'm gonna give you." John said.

"What answer are you going to give me?" Sherlock pressed. His mind sped through possible reasons, trying to find the one John could come to the conclusion with. His eyes widened with realisation.

"No." he stated.

"Sherlock-"

"No." he repeated, louder.

"But, Sherlock-"

"_No._" the detective growled "That is _not_ an option."

"Why not?"

"Because despite everything, I will _not_ allow myself to succumb to that level. I am not about to give every enemy I have- and I have many of those- a weakness they can exploit in me. I am _not_ in _love _with _Molly Hooper_."

Sherlock was standing, towering over his still seated friend. The detective was panting slightly from his rant. He inhaled deeply as he ran his hands through his curls; John sat there a slight smirk playing on his lips.

_I am not in love with Molly Hooper. I am not in love with Molly Hooper. I am not in love with Molly Hooper. _

"Well I was only going to _say_ that maybe you _missed_ the _comfort_ of a partner," John began slowly "but it seems to me, that you already had the correct answer locked away in the box named 'Denial' in that palace of yours. All you had to do was admit it." Sherlock snorted indignantly.

"I don't have a box named _Denial_- how absurd-"

"And now you're trying to change the topic because you're coming to the realisation that what I am saying, for once you might add, is correct."

John rose from his seat to stand in front of his best friend.

_I am not in love with Molly Hooper. I am not in love with Molly Hooper. _

_I am not in love with Molly Hooper. _

"I've known you for ages Sherlock, lived with you the same amount. I have a vague sense- God help the person who can _understand_ it- on how that egotistical, smart-arsed, brilliant brain of yours works. I'm not you, but even a normal, boring person like me can work it out."

Placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, John grinned.

_I am not in love with Molly Hooper. I am not in love with Molly Hooper. _

"You're in love with her, mate. My little boy's all grown up." He said, ruffling Sherlock's hair as he laughed at his own attempt at humour. Sherlock stood stock still, barely registering the mess John made of his hair, yet fully comprehending his words.

_I am _not_ in love with Molly Hooper. _

John seemed to realise the affect his words had on Sherlock. He let his hand slip to his side as his grin waned.

"Like you said: I'm experienced in this field- well, at least more so than you are. You'll come to terms with this sooner or later- hopefully sooner- and I'll be here if you need any help with it; but when you do, and you manage to win her back (and I really want you too by the way) I promise you Sherlock, you will love every single second of it."

Sherlock shifted his gaze to John's eyes. Taken aback by genuine feelings in his eyes. He was obviously thinking about someone special as he said those words. Clearly, the blogger had come to terms with his own feelings for the pediatrician.

The taller man nodded his head once as a response. John pursed his lips and squeezed his friend's arm encouragingly.

"I'm gonna pop out for a bit." He said, before walking to the coat rack.

Sherlock opened his mouth but was cut off.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." John said opening the door before leaving with a wave.

Sherlock followed John's path to the door. As he pulled on his Belstaff, the front door re-opened. Despite having his back to the door, he knew who it was.

"Sherlock, make sure you call me if you need anything, or if you want to talk, or-"

"I'll be fine John," he answered, turning to face the man "besides, I wouldn't want to interrupt the day you tell Ms. Morstan that _you_ love her."

John stared at Sherlock, open-mouthed.

"Oh, John, I still am the best detective this world has to offer." Sherlock said with an eye roll "Now it's best you leave if you want to catch her before her shift ends."

John nodded, muttering to himself as he left the apartment. Sherlock did the same after a couple of minutes and called a cab. He had to pay a visit to his dear mother.

…

"Sherlock, my darling boy!" Aliana Holmes cried as she enveloped her youngest son in a spine breaking hug.

"Mummy," Sherlock wheezed "Enola said you wanted to see me?" Aliana let Sherlock go, allowing him some much needed oxygen.

"You only ever visit when it's needed. I am your mother, young man."

"Of course mother," Sherlock replied "I have been caught up with work lately."

"Anyway, yes there is something to tell you."

"Oh yes?"

"I've reached out to the Hooper family. I want to get to know my grand children and their family- seeing that you boys are most likely to be bachelors the rest of your lives. Honestly, I've already told Mycroft that I have no qualms with homosexuality and you- you really had to go muck it up with that nice young lady and-"

"Mummy, off topic; and I assure you, Mycroft isn't homosexual and if you would be so kind to keep out of _my_ life?" Aliana glared at her son.

"Don't get smart with me, son."

"Sorry Mummy." Sherlock was quick to apologise.

"Anyway, I reached out. The children's grandmother, Marion- lovely woman- had some reservations with Enola, and honestly so would I if I were her (don't tell your sister) but after a nice chat, we decided a get-to-know-each-other dinner was needed. So that is exactly what we are having." Sherlock groaned.

"Mummy, I don't like social gather-"

"I don't care Sherlock. We are doing this for the good of your sister and our family."

"But-"

"No buts, Sherlock."

"What about Mycroft?"

"He'll be there as well, so both of you can't point fingers at each other."

Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that."

"Nothing Mummy."

"That's what I thought. Its next Saturday, at _their _home, I will send directions soon. Be sure to dress nicely Sherlock."

"…"

"Sherlock?"

"Yes Mummy, I'll dress _nicely_."

"Good, now that that has been settled, let's go to the drawing room- I want to know what my boy's been up to."

…

…

"Had a great time today, John." Mary said, leaning up to peck her boyfriend's lips.

"So did I," John grinned against her mouth and pulled her up for another long kiss.

The couple broke for air. Nervousness crept up John; he raised her hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"You okay there?" Mary asked.

"Of course, of course- I just. Never mind. Good night, Mary." John said finally, leaning down to kiss her once more before leaving.

Mary stood there confused.

"Odd." She muttered to herself before shrugging. She headed to the kitchen to make herself a cuppa.

As soon as she'd poured water into the kettle, the doorbell rang. Frowning, Mary walked to the door.

"John? You alright?"

The man at the door seemed to be thinking very hard about that question.

"No." he said quietly before stepping into the apartment.

"I won't be until I tell you what I have to tell you." Mary tilted her head, confused.

"What're you on about, John?"

_Is he breaking up with- no. Don't be an idiot Mary Morstan_.

"I-I've been feeling this way for awhile now, and I never really realised 'cause this hasn't happened in a while, but I was talking to Sherlock about it and then I realised it, so I came over to tell you and now I am and-"

"Sweetie, you're rambling." Mary said, placing her hands on John's shoulder's in an attempt to calm him down.

"Just tell me what you want to say."

John looked at her with a new determination. He took her hands in his and held them against his chest.

"I- What I'd been meaning to say is-" he shook his head, closing his eyes.

His gaze locked onto her's when he opened them. John unpursed his lips.  
"Mary, I'm pretty sure- about 99% sure, 'cause you know, you can't really be perfect- but I'm pretty sure; I mean I know. Yes, I know that I love you."

Silence filled the room. In a sudden flurry of movement, Mary had unlatched her hands from Johns and flung them around his neck. She dragged the shocked doctor towards her and crashed his lips into hers.

She opened his mouth with her own, and slid her hands into his hair. John responded equally, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against his body.

Mary moved her hands to cup his face, trying to bring him as close as possible. He groaned into her mouth as her tongue slipped past his lips-

A shrill whistle sounded through the room, causing the couple to jump away- red faced and swollen lipped- from each other. Mary rushed to the kitchen to take the kettle out.

She came out a few moments later, smiling widely. Mary pulled John down by his shirt for another kiss.

"John, I-" she started, once they pulled away. John placed a finger to his lips.

"I don't want you to say anything just yet- I just wanted you to know, and that I'm in this for the long term."

John's phone rang.  
"It's Sherlock," he said, reading the text "and he's pissed. See you soon, yeah?" he said, pecking Mary.  
"I love you." He said, almost as confirmation "Yeah, sounds about right." He said grinning before letting himself out.

Mary stood still, fingers to her lips, mouth gaping idiotically like a fish. She blinked, regaining control of herself. She snatched her hand away as her thoughts fled back to her mind.

Reaching for her phone, she muttered softly to herself.

"What just happened?"


End file.
